


The Deal

by Desirae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ALL THE GOOD THINGS, Accountant Castiel, Barista Castiel, Boys In Love, Business Owner Dean Winchester, Cas knows what he wants, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Winchester and Castiel actually communicate, Dean and Cas don't know they are dating, Dean does too he's just afraid, Dean owns a bowling alley, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Photographer Castiel, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Tension, amirite?, movie marathons, team switch, well Cas kinda knows, who cares who is doing what to each other as long as they're both having sex, with smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22277056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desirae/pseuds/Desirae
Summary: “I’ll make you a deal,” Castiel said in lieu of answering his question and laughed when Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. Clearly, his change in attitude was unexpected.“Oh yeah?” Dean's bright green eyes held amused interest. “What kind of deal?”“We continue on as we have been the last few months; hanging out, getting to know each other and after six months if you still feel about me the way I know I'll still feel about you, you agree to date me.”Thirty-five-year-old Castiel Novak may be newly divorced, and newly out of the closet, but he still knows what he wants and what he wants is Dean Winchester. Now Cas just has to convince the man to take a chance on him. Shouldn't be too hard, right?Dean would be lying if he said that the newest transplant to Angel’s Bend wasn't totally his type, not to mention insanely hot.  Unfortunately, Dean has been somebody's big gay experiment before and doesn’t want to put himself through that again. But something about Castiel Novak makes him wonder if it's not worth the gamble.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 332
Kudos: 687
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will update bi-weekly:)

It certainly wasn’t the most dignified way for her to find out. 

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything Castiel could do about it now, as he lay in the bed, panting. His eyes wide and horrified he stared at his wife, Daphne, standing in the doorway, a look of shock on her face. Apparently, the school where Daphne taught, had an early release. Castiel wished he had known that when he had taken the personal day.

The obscene sounds of the porno he was watching seemed to dominate the room, heavy breaths and guttural grunting from the two men going bareback bent over the arm of a sofa. Castiel was frozen, come-covered fist still wrapped around his rapidly softening cock. 

It was the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut firmly that started Castiel into action, quickly cleaning his hands and his dick with the wet wipes he had placed next to himself on the bed. As he hurried to throw his jeans back on and turn off the DVD, he braced himself for what he was about to face. Truth be told, it was a long time coming. Castiel sucked in a deep breath, blowing it out on a whoosh, and left the room. 

He found Daphne at the kitchen table, delicate hands wrapped around a mug of tea. Her short cinnamon hair bounced as she lifted her gaze towards him. Castiel leaned against the door jam, arms folded across his chest.

“Cas, are you gay?” the question came out calm and even as if Daphne were merely just inquiring about what he’d like for dinner. The lack of screaming and yelling seemed almost sad. What did it say about their marriage that she wasn't that upset or surprised? Castiel sighed heavily, before taking a seat across from her at the table.

Castiel propped his chin on his fist as he observed her. “I think so,” he said, resigned and he heard Daphne’s soft intake of breath at having her suspicions confirmed out loud.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Castiel flinched at the hurt tone to her voice and he struggled with what to say. Their relationship was at best, complicated. Both of them coming from hugely religious families, Daphne and Castiel had been high school sweethearts, in the most innocent of terms. Chaste kisses and hand-holding. They attended the same local college, Daphne for teaching and Castiel for finance. Even when they had both moved out of their parent's homes and into their own apartments, their physical relationship remained _pure_. Daphne did not believe in sex before marriage, and as much affection as Castiel had for her, he’d never felt the desire to go further than the over the clothes petting they sometimes indulged in.

Perhaps it should have been a clue.

When they had graduated college and Daphne began teaching at the Elementary school and Castiel began his work at Sandover Accounting firm, it had been a natural progression to get engaged. His mother, Hester, had been so proud to have a son marrying the pastor’s daughter and spent two years planning the perfect wedding. For her part, Daphne was thrilled that their marriage would release the substantial trust fund set up for her by her grandmother that required nuptials for the entirety of five years. 

It had been ten.

There had been problems in the sexual department from the beginning. Their wedding night, for example, had been a disaster. Daphne and Castiel had chalked that up to first times and performance anxiety. Daphne’s discomfort, the effort Castiel had had to take just to maintain an erection, constantly stroking himself to keep from flagging, had been abysmal. Luckily, they had laughed about it, years of friendship making the embarrassing act more bearable. 

The sex had gotten better over the years. Nothing as spectacular as what he’d read about in the romance novels his brother Gabriel liked to tease him about. There was no earth-shattering climax, no blacking out from pleasure. Just the gentle pop and fizz of release that an orgasm could bring. The truth was, Castiel often achieved much higher bliss from jerking himself off than he did buried in Daphne’s petite body. For years, he ignored the way his thoughts drifted in his solo sessions to hard, firm bodies, the gentle rasp of a scruffy face, and instead focused on pleasing Daphne as much as possible, even going as far as to get a prescription for Viagra.

It wasn’t until his friend Cesar married his husband Jesse (and wasn’t that a friendship his mother hated him retaining) that Castiel considered there was more to his ambivalence towards sex; that it wasn’t the act itself that he didn’t particularly care for, but the fact that it was with a woman. Seeing his friends dancing on their special day, the way their eyes had shined with love and their constant need to touch each other, made Castiel _ache_. The beauty of the two men, the way they fit together, even just swaying on the dance floor, it had sparked something in him. Castiel wanted that connection with somebody, and no matter how much he and Daphne loved each other, it wasn’t like that between the two of them. 

Castiel had begun to let his fantasies have a little more detail after that day; he no longer shied from the fact that when he tugged his cock under the hot spray of the shower, it was to the thought of muscular thighs and thick arms. Images of calloused fingers splaying across his body, deep grunts echoing in his ears, had him coming harder than any time he had sex with his wife. He knew his marriage was a sham, and he would need to face it sooner rather than later.

Now Castiel was thirty-four years old and he had been caught fucking into his fist, watching his very first deliberately purchased male on male porno, in front of his wife. He should be ashamed or guilty, but all he could honestly feel was relief that he no longer had to hide. Castiel’s only regret was any pain he had inadvertently caused Daphne.

“I think I always knew,” Daphne’s soft words brought him back from his musings and he cocked his head in question. “You’re not as subtle as you think,” she said with a small smile gracing her face. “Your eyes tend to linger on the same men I find attractive,” Daphne gave a little laugh as Castiel’s brows rose in surprise. Did he do that? How had he not been aware?

“How come you never said anything? if you suspected it?"

"I was afraid," she said. "accepting it meant change and I like things the way they are. You're my best friend. The sex stuff, it didn't really matter to me."

"Is… is that why you never broached the subject of children? Because you suspected?” it was a question Castiel had to ask.

Daphne took a sip of her tea before answering, placing the mug back down on the table. “I think,” she said with a thoughtful nod, “ subconsciously at least. You know both of our mothers have been harping on it, but something has been holding me back. _It’s not the right time, we need to save more money,_ ” Daphne ticked off excuses on her fingers, “but… I guess I just knew that eventually, something like this would happen.”

“Really?” Castiel deadpanned, " Something like this?" and this time when Daphne laughed, it was richer, warm.

“Well, maybe not exactly like this,” she conceded with a blush. “But something in the back of my mind kept saying _wait_. Just wait. And honestly, thank God we did. Can you imagine how much harder this would be if we had a child?”

He could. It was the reason Castiel breathed a sigh of relief whenever Hester or Naomi pestered them about children and Daphne would just calmly respond, _when we’re ready._

“You know I love you, right? That if I could, if it would be enough, I-”

“I know, Cas,” Daphne said, hands reaching out to grip his and still the restless movement of his fingers. “I know you didn’t intend for this,” tears glimmered in his wife’s eyes and he felt a surge of affection for her that had Castiel pulling her up from the table into a hard hug. "You deserve more. We both do."

They stood, embracing, each offering the other comfort, and if a few tears of his own leaked out, Castiel wasn’t ashamed. Regardless of how it all ended, this woman was his best friend and hurting her was the only concern he had.

“Our families are going to be pissed,” Castiel said into the softness of Daphne’s sweater and he felt her shoulders shake with laughter.

“Yes, well. Have fun telling them.”

* * *

  
  
The fallout from the demise of Castiel and Daphne’s marriage was remarkably minimal. Minimal in the fact that Castiel’s parents no longer wanted to see him, end-of-story. Castiel had not heard from either of them since the night he and Daphne set their parents down to dinner and explained their situation. They'd left before the first course. His father had written him off as an embarrassment to the family, and his mother, a disappointment to God. 

Castiel highly doubted God cared who he fucked or fell in love with. 

Daphne’s father had passed three years prior, but her mother, Naomi, was infinitely kinder than his own, and for that, Castiel was grateful. Naomi was one who appeared stern and often was, but she loved her daughter and Castiel by extension, and she recognized that there was no ill intent on Castiel’s part.

After putting their house on the market, Castiel had moved into the guestroom, which should have been weird, but somehow wasn’t. Not much had actually changed between him and Daphne. In fact, things were lighter with no expectations from each other, but living together after the divorce was finalized was not something either of them wanted to do. When the house sold, Castiel moved into an apartment close to his accounting firm. It was a short term lease with the option to extend, but Castiel was feeling conflicted.

it's been a year since the divorce, it's been a year and he still found himself fodder for gossip, and that hadn’t helped things at work. His small, conservative town didn’t quite know what to make of the town’s beloved former pastor’s son in law being gay, but he knew they didn’t like it. Castiel learned that the hard way when his boss Zachariah, who used to praise Castiel’s gift for numbers and organization, suddenly found fault with everything he did. 

When he complained to his cousin Gabriel about it, he told him to quit.

“You don’t need that shit, Cassie. What you need is a fresh start,” Gabriel said, voice muffled by what Castiel was sure was a confection of some kind. His cousin Gabriel was the black sheep of the family-or was, before Castiel’s big gay bombshell. He ran a specialty cafe in Coastal Massachusetts called _The_ _Herbal-tea Cafe._

“That’s easier said than done,” Castiel grumbled as he flipped to an episode of _Top Chef_ , with a microwaved burrito in his lap. “Everyone here looks at me like I’m a pariah and those who don’t keep trying to set me up with the token gays in their family.”

Gabriel snorted, “Yeah, well, no one says your fresh start has to be in _Pleasantville_ over there. Move here.”

“What?” Castiel sputtered, nearly asperating his mouthful of cheesy-beany goodness.

“Move here. There’s nothing holding you back there, Cassie,” Gabriel pointed out.

“Except my job,” Castiel said, taking a swallow of his bottled water.

“The job that you called me up to complain about? Come on, Castiel, you can be an accountant anywhere. Or don’t. You have money from the house, now. You finally have time to think about what _you_ want to do,” Gabriel implored. “Come to Angel’s Bend, you can move into my spare room. Work in the cafe until you find a job you really want. It’s gorgeous here, Cassie, you could start taking pictures again.”

The thought tugged at his heart. Photography had always been a passionate hobby of his, something he knew his parents never would have approved of. Hester and Ishim expected him to be practical in his life choices, and art school certainly didn’t fit that theme. So a pastime it had remained. There was nothing quite like capturing the majestic shot of a perfect sunrise, or a gentle fog rolling over a grassy field. The idea of photographing crashing waves against a lighthouse had Castiel’s blood humming.

It wasn’t a totally crazy idea, was it? Moving to the East Coast and starting over? Castiel let out a shuddering breath as excitement began to swell. He was nearly thirty-five and for the first time, he felt like he was about to start really living.

“Gabriel,” Castiel said with a laugh of disbelief. “Are you truly serious, right now?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I miss you, Cassie,” there was no mistaking the sincere tone. Gabriel had always been his favorite cousin. He was a smart, kindhearted man hidden behind sarcasm and a mischievous smile. When he refused to follow in the family footsteps and take over the town law practice, Gabriel was practically shunned by his parents. Rachel and Bartholemew Milton didn’t consider the foodservice industry a worthy profession for their family. Gabriel had fucked off to the _Cambridge School of Culinary Arts_ and never came back.

“I just wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable with my new… lifestyle,” Castiel said trepidatiously and let out a relieved breath when Gabriel scoffed. 

“You better not be hinting at what I think you’re hinting at, Cassie. You know me better than that.”

“I know,” Castiel said sheepishly. “Just habit to be leery.”

“Get the hell outta Pontiac, Cousin. Come see how the Liberals live,” Gabriel teased.

Castiel looked around his sparse apartment. The space was fully furnished. He’d left the furniture to Daphne; seemed only fair as she had picked out most of it. Castiel hadn’t taken much with him. There were his books, photo albums of his own work, and his music collection. Castiel also took a handful of documentaries, his Nikon and the flatscreen he’d won in a pie baking contest- a recipe he’d gotten from Gabriel, and a set of hand-painted bumblebee coffee mugs and dishes. The truth was, his whole life could all be jampacked into his Lincoln Continental.

“Alright, Gabriel,” Castiel said with a euphoric bubble of laughter. “You’ve got yourself a roommate.”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

_Three Months Later_

The crashing of the pins was jarring as Castiel walked through the doors of Winchester Lanes. He hadn’t been bowling since his cousin Balthazar’s twelfth birthday party. The air was cool and rich with the scent of popcorn, coffee, and hand sanitizer. The atmosphere made Cas immediately feel young again.

Castiel could see members of his church group gathered together around the front of an L shaped mahogany bar. His new pastor, Chuck Shurley, was munching on a boat of fries and nursing a Heineken. Gabriel had been more than happy to introduce Castiel to the Angel’s Bend Community Church. Open to people of all faiths and orientations, Castiel had felt immediately at home in the diverse congregation. Which was how he had been talked into being here, for the seventh annual Holy Rollers Tuesday Night Doubles League.

Since moving in with Gabriel, Castiel had started to carve out a routine for himself. Early mornings had him leaving the apartment above the Cafe and jogging the winding paths of dune grass to the Angel’s Bend Lighthouse, joyfully snapping photo after photo of white-capped waves breaking against the massive boulders outlining the structure. When seen from above, the pattern of jagged rock bending around the black and white beacon made the shadow of Angel’s wings, giving the small oceanside town its name. Although splitting the sale of the house with Daphne left Castiel in a position to not need to go back to work right away, he still did a five hour-shift Monday through Friday at _Herbal-Tea_. It was a beneficial way to get to know the community, aside from who he had already met at Church. The weed-infused mellow mint, for example, was quite popular with the locals. Of course, those drinks were only sold in sealed bottles and with the accompaniment of a photo ID declaring one 21 years old, much to the freshman college crowds' dismay. 

Late afternoons and early evenings had Castiel again with his camera, taking advantage of the gorgeous sunset over the pier, and the fragrant community gardens. Lit with fireflies in the gloaming, it was almost ethereal. He was thinking of taking a photography class at ABU- _Angels Bend University_ and wondered if he should upgrade his Nikon. Gabriel was thrilled to see Castiel embracing his love of photography and nature again but had been insistent on not letting him stay lost behind the lens, which was why he had agreed to participate in this activity. Castiel had faith it would prove fun once he loosened up a bit. _Plus_ , Castiel thought as he locked eyes with the gorgeous man with burnt-honey hair behind the counter. Cas had another reason for participating and his name was Dean Winchester. Owner of Winchester Lanes, and resident eligible bachelor, Dean was currently leveling Cas with his signature smile that always left him a little breathless. Returning the gesture with a soft grin of his own, Castiel tried to remind himself that he wasn't a lovesick teenager, but a grown-ass man.

Shaking off his nerves, Cas walked across the carpet-a black monstrosity littered with stars and swirling, twisting ribbons of neon pinks, greens, and oranges. It looked as though someone had thrown up fun-fetti on the entire surface of the floor. The bowling center was fairly small, only hosting sixteen lanes and a birthday party room. The pit areas sported black and white checkered flooring with bucket seats in pale blue and beige. Hovering above every lane was a flatscreen TV and Castiel watched as a cartoon turkey maliciously cackled on the screen when a patron lobbed his ball straight into the gutter.

 _Rude_. And fuck if that wasn’t going to be him in the near future, he thought with a resigned sigh.

“Cassie, you made it!” A heavy hand slapped down on Castiel’s shoulder and he rolled his eyes for form.

“We walked over here together, Gabriel,” Castiel said dryly. Winchester Lanes was located in the plaza across from the Cafe, sandwiched between a yoga studio called _The Lotus_ and a new age bar named _Tarot_. 

“Yeah, well, when you didn’t come in right away, I thought you might have skedaddled,” Gabriel said obnoxiously around a blow-pop. “Come on, everyone is almost here,” he said with a nod towards the bar where thirty or so people stood chattering. Castiel recognized Sheriff Mills _-black coffee, one sugar, and a reduced-fat blueberry muffin_ and her oldest daughter, Claire- _Pumpkin-spiced canna-spiked latte and a french crueler_ \- chatting with Bobby Singer who had an auto shop was just a block over from _Herbal-Tea_. Bobby had his arm slung around the shoulders of a pleasant-looking brunette with a wide smile and laugh-lines around her pretty eyes. Castiel believed her name was Ellen- but he was one-hundred percent sure her order was a _decaf regular._

He saw the owner of _Tarot_ , Rowena MacLeod, leaning against her tree-trunk of a fiance, Sam. Sam was Dean's brother and Castiel cursed the flush that climbed his cheeks as he observed Dean's bow-legged walk when he made his way behind the bar. Dean was laughing at something his soon-to-be sister in law said, head tipped back, showing off the long column of his throat. Castiel knew from experience that close proximity to such a stunning sight could render one speechless. The first time Dean had ordered from him- _large black coffee, please, and a powdered donut_ -he’d been too caught up in cataloging the golden freckles on his face, highlighted by the natural light streaming in through the windows of the Cafe, to hear what he'd said. When Gabriel had snickered and nudged Castiel aside to take over the order, Dean had looked at him with soft amusement and when he left, it was with a flirtatious wink in Cas' direction. Dean, Castiel had learned, liked to sample all kinds of wine, not just one label and that news had made him very happy. Castiel’s dick had twitched in his pants like an over-sensitive pubescent, which at thirty-five had both embarrassed and excited him, but he was bound and determined to embrace his new life, and what Castiel wanted to embrace the most was Dean Winchester. 

A few more stragglers came in; The town Librarian Hannah and her husband Fergus Crowley, who worked in the same law office as Sam Winchester, and Castiel’s doubles partner, Charlie Bradbury. Charlie was a regular at _Herbal-Tea_ , and she had a immediately offered to be Castiel’s bowling partner (and new best friend) when Gabriel and Chuck were drafting him to the league one morning after church. Charlie was a web designer for most of the town’s local businesses. She was also a self-proclaimed nerd and the Queen of moons, in a live-action role-playing game set in the fantastical land of Moondoor. 

Charlie slid next to him with a wide grin wearing a black tee-shirt declaring “Mischief Managed” and nudged his shoulder. “Hey, new best friend, ready to bowl?” she asked excitedly and Castiel couldn’t help but smile in return.

“I guess we’ll see. I apologize in advance if I am as dreadful as I fear I’m going to be.”

“No worries, dude, that’s what the handicap is for,” Castiel wasn’t sure what Charlie meant about that and could only assume it had to do with scoring. The chatter simmered down to a quiet hum as Dean left the bar area to grab the microphone behind the main counter.

“Hello, everyone. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Dean Winchester. Welcome to the 7th annual Holy Rollers doubles League. I appreciate your patience as we get set up. Now, for the first three weeks, you’ll be bowling solely to establish average…” Castiel tried not to get lost in the timber of Dean’s voice as he explained how the teams earned points, how the handicap affected the averages, and when the first and second halves of the season were.

“Remember that this is ten pin bowling, not candlepin bowling,” Dean said, eyeing the crowd. “The lanes are not dry, they are covered in oil. If your ball gets stuck, do not attempt to retrieve it yourself. Signal the counter and whoever is up there will call down back to Benny, and he will take care of it. Any problem on the lane, do not attempt to fix it on your own, that will only get'cha hurt,” Dean warned.

“It was _one_ time!” Came an embarrassed squawk in the back.

“Last season Garth Fitzgerald gave himself a concussion trying to get a ball out of the gutter. Took one step and _splat_ , smacked his head hard on the approach when he went down,” Charlie whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

After renting shoes, teams were set up; fourteen in total. For now, they were just by number, members told to have a team name picked out and ready to enter in next week. Some teams were ahead of the game, using the touchscreen to change theirs already; he noticed Sam and Rowena had gone from Team #3 to _SamWitch._

“Last year, “ Charlie began as she slipped her bowling shoes on, “Meg and I named ourselves the _Pindigo Girls_.”

Castiel barked out a laugh. Charlie’s girlfriend Meg was a nurse and wasn’t able to make her shift coincide with league night which was why Castiel was fortunate to be paired up with her.

After a couple of lucky shots that surprised the hell out of Castiel, he jokingly suggested naming their team _I Can’t Believe it’s Not Gutter._ Dean was doing his walkthrough when he saw their team name up on the screen. He let out one of those beautiful peals of laughter, the kind that involved his whole body, and Castiel was enchanted.

“Oooh, someone has a crush,” Charlie teased and Castiel nearly dropped his ball as he stuttered.

“What? What are you talking about?” he said, approaching the lane and depositing the twelve-pound ball directly in the gutter.

Charlie only laughed delightedly. “You know what I'm talking about. You’ve got total heart eyes,” she said.

Was he that obvious? His face must have shown his distress because she immediately stopped teasing and reassured him.

“Hey, no, don’t get upset. I’m only messing with you. Dean’s my bff and but I promise I won’t say anything.”

Castiel let out a breath of relief. “Thank you. Dean is very..." _sweet, smart, beautiful, kind_ " very nice. But I am new to this whole… being out thing. ”

“I sense there’s a story there,” Charlie remarked, offering a bag of honey roasted cashews to Castiel. 

“Indeed,” Castiel replied, reaching in to grab a few nuts. 

“We got three games to go. Lay it on me, bestie,” Charlie said with a Cheshire like grin.

So he did. Charlie listened raptly between turns, making all of the appropriate sympathetic noises and declaring both he and Daphne lucky to have escaped with their friendship intact.

“So now what?” She asked, frowning as she left a 7-10 split on the lane, and waited for her ball to come back. “What's the plan for the newly single Castiel Novak?”

Castiel glanced at Dean who was now back behind the bar and found his expressive eyes were already lit on him. Cas wished the man was close enough for him to admire their moss-green depths. Dean threw him a soft smile before turning his attention back to his brother. Castiel reached into his trench coat pocket and pulled out his digital camera. He'd gotten in the habit of keeping it on him nowadays. Charlie smiled cheekily at him as he pointed the camera in her direction. Turning back towards Dean, he zoomed in and snapped a picture of him in mid-laugh. 

“Now,” Cas murmured as he covertly took a few more shots, knowing it kind of made him a creeper but also not really caring, “I work up the courage to ask out the man of my dreams.” 

He meant it, literally. Dean Winchester had starred in quite a few of Castiel's nightly fantasies since he'd arrived at this picturesque seaside town. But it wasn't just because Dean looked like he walked off the cover of GQ Magazine. No, his observations had shown him that Dean was an amazing, generous person that he would be lucky to get to know better. Cas was drawn to him in a way he never had been to a person before. Dean just seemed to radiate goodness from the inside out. From the way he always took time to sit down and have a cup of tea with the sweet widow, Miss Mildred, in the cafe every Monday morning, or how he always spoke about his brother with such pride, to how just last week, he had helped Castiel out by offering to change his oil, when Gabriel was teasing him about not knowing how to do it himself. Castiel had insisted he could just bring his car to Bobby Singer's, but the charming man had stood firm. Dean had wound up doing it right in the back parking lot of the cafe, where Castiel was able to admire the play of his strong back muscles as he leaned over the hood of the car. In all honesty, Castiel had been lucky not to stutter as he offered Dean an iced tea and a large slice of key-lime pie when he had finished the oil change. it was the least he could do, seeing as Dean had refused any monetary payment. 

The truth was that initially, Castiel had thought Dean was interested. They had chatted about inconsequential things, the kind of chit-chat you have when you're first getting to know someone. Cas told Dean that he used to work as an accountant and in turn, he learned that Dean had bought the formerly run-down bowling center with the unexpected winnings from a lucky slot pull in Vegas. Dean’s smile had been flirtatious and the wink he threw at Cas when he mentioned how good the scruff on his face looked made him flush with pleasure underneath his perpetual stubble. The anticipation of whatever spark was between them had made Castiel a little giddy, and he still wasn't quite sure what had happened to make Dean pull back at the end of their conversation.

_“So, Cas, what’s your story?” Dean asked as he pulled the lid off of the iced tea, downing half the contents in one go. They were sat together on the back steps of the building, and Dean knocked his knee against Cas’ companionably. The warm mid-June sun that baked their skin was comfortably dry and felt nice on his bare arms. The air carried a soft breeze that washed Castiel in Dean’s beachy scent, made no less alluring with the light sheen of sweat and engine grease._

_“My story?”_

_“Yeah. Gotta be a reason why you moved all the way up here and I have a feeling it wasn’t to sell fantastic pie and ginger-peach tea.”_

_Castiel chuckled. “Yes, well. That tale will take more time than either of us have today. Long story short? I was divorced a year ago after I…“ How did he answer this? After his wife caught him jerking off to Pizza Man: Special delivery 5? “After I came out to my wife,” Cas settled on instead._

_Dean’s brow’s winged up in surprise. “You were married? To a woman?”_

_Cas nodded. “Uh-huh. Ten years, to my ‘childhood sweetheart’, “ he air quoted._

_Dean let out a long whistle. “That’s a long time, man. And you never…” Dean trailed off with a vague hand gesture that Castiel merely narrowed his eyes at until Dean clarified._

_“You, uh, you never dated a man before?” Dean finally asked, green and gold eyes surveying him with surprise and what Castiel was sure was thinly-veiled disappointment._

_“Considering I was so deep in the closet, I could borrow sugar from Mr. Tumnus, then no. I have never dated a man,” Castiel said with a self-deprecating smile._

_Dean huffed out a laugh at the Narnia reference and Castiel was sad to see him push up from the step to standing. Dean rubbed at the back of his neck as he observed Cas thoughtfully, then tossed his take-out cup and pie plate into the cafe’s dumpster._

_“Well, Cas,” Dean drawled as he gathered up his tools and the Mobile 1 containers now filled with the old oil from Castiel's Lincoln Continental. Or, as Dean had dubbed the vehicle, 'the pimpmobile'. “I wish you luck on your new adventures in dating.”_

_It was said with a wide smile, but somehow Castiel felt as though he was being given the brush-off. He couldn't help feeling disheartened because he was sure that they had made a connection. Had he misread the situation that badly? He supposed it was possible, it wasn't as though this was something he did every day; shyly chatting with extraordinarily handsome men. But honestly, he didn't think so. Castiel may have been inexperienced in this particular area, but he knew Dean had looked at him with more than just a friendly eye. As Castiel watched Dean slowly make his way across the parking lot to his pride and joy - a black 67 Chevy Impala- he tried to pinpoint where in the conversation he had lost him. Did Dean not date divorced people? Was it because he was newly out? Castiel wasn't sure, but of one thing he was positive; Cas wasn't ready to give up on Dean Winchester quite yet._

  
“That won't be easy,” Charlie's voice startled him out of his musings “he's kind of sworn off casual dating,” she said in a way which made Castiel think there was more to that story. ”But I think I can definitely get you an in,” she said glancing between Castiel and his camera, pursing her lips. “ I’m updating the alley’s website. How do you feel about photo shoots?”

Castiel grinned at the question, aiming another look at Dean. _God_ , but he was beautiful.

"What did you have in mind?”

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Dean carried his Yeti in one hand and his keys in the other as he jogged up the front steps to Winchester Lanes. Normally, he could never justify spending thirty bucks on a travel mug, but the damn thing kept his coffee hot for hours. It would be an hour before League started, so, for now, Dean left the lights over the approaches dark, only switching on the ones for the counter and back office. Even in the dim, the lanes shined with the oil, Benny having come in and put out the new pattern the night before. Saturday mornings were the only day that Winchester lanes opened early. Sunday through Friday the schedule was 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. but Youth League started at nine, and soon the building would be filled with the sound of crashing pins and chattering voices. 

Parents and grandparents would occupy the stools, cups of take-out coffee helping them through the morning as they cheered their children on. Dean loved Youth League. The ages range from 7 to 18, and many of the older children had been with him since the beginning. They were a great group of kids, with a few of the senior members taking on roles of junior coaches for the new younger players. Two of them, Krissy Chambers and Jack Kline, had actually just come in first place at States. The pair had no idea that they would be the surprise recipients of Winchester Lanes’ Stars of Tomorrow bowling scholarship at the end of the season, which would give each teenager $5,000 towards their college education.

Dean turned on the computers and switched on the answering machine as he got ready for the morning. He printed out the weekly score sheets and placed them with the pencils and team dues envelopes in the pit areas of each lane. Dean turned on the television above the bar, switching the channel to Nick Jr. There were always little siblings giving their parents the run-around while their older brothers and sisters were bowling, but sometimes the power of _Blue's Clues_ and _Peppa Pig_ tamed them.

By the time the first few families started trickling in, Dean had the pizza oven and fryolator heated and the popcorn popping. The coffee maker was brewing, and parents were already forming a line. It was the one day of the week where children were allowed to have things like chicken fingers and soft pretzels for breakfast. He said good morning to Benny as the burly Cajun grabbed his cup of coffee and headed down the catwalk to the back of the lanes. He would be back there all morning, babysitting the machines for deadwood and ball returns. 

Dean chatted with parents as he dished out nachos and batches of fries in between working with the kids, time flying by as the first game slipped into the second.

“Hey Dean,” Ben Braeden called over from his lane. “there’s a pin in the gutter.”

Dean glanced over from where he was helping Jesse Turner with his rotation and saw that there indeed was a pin stuck over on five. Dean jogged up behind the counter and flipped the switch to the back speakers so the microphone would call down to Benny and not up front.

“Deadwood, lane five, that’s deadwood on lane five,” Dean knew to speak loudly and repeat because the crashing of the pins in the back were so loud that even with the microphone, it was hard for Benny to hear calls. 

Dean braced his arms in the doorway of the office and leaned out, and just watched for a while. He smiled widely when Jesse picked up a small split, happy the little adjustment they'd made to his wrist movement seemed to be helping. Dean heard the buzzer sound in the back office which meant someone was coming in through the front door and he grinned when he saw that it was Charlie. Then his heart tripped and stumbled when he saw that Castiel followed close behind.

The man was striking, almost unfairly handsome with dark tousled hair, and a light stubble that Dean's fingers itched to touch. The navy tee-shirt he wore only made his bright blue eyes more startling, and his pink lips curved up in a pleased smile at Dean’s not so subtle perusal. He couldn’t help letting his eyes roam down his athletic form, a pair of khaki shorts showing off his gorgeous runners calves. Dean almost rolled his eyes as he saw that even his long feet looked sexy, clad in Black Teva sandals.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel said in his whiskey-soaked voice and Dean could only wonder what his gravelly tone would sound like under less innocent circumstances. Like waking up in bed, for example. Charlie merely shot him a knowing smile and Dean chose to ignore her. The pointless daydreaming only hurt him, after all, so if he wanted to torture himself, that was his business.

“Morning, Cas. What did Charlie drag you in here for?”

Castiel held up his camera with a soft smile.

“I’m updating the website, and Cas here is gonna take some pictures for me.”

Dean’s brows winged up in surprise. “Oh, yeah? I didn’t know you were a photographer, Cas!”

Castiel casually shrugged, and Dean, who had been so focused on the man himself, finally noticed that Castiel was carrying a nice looking black camera, different than the small silver digital Dean had seen him playing with during the doubles league.

“Yes, well. It’s just an amateur hobby, but I really do love it. Plus, it gave me an excuse to upgrade,” Castiel said with a lopsided smile that Dean absolutely didn’t think was adorable.

“Don't let him fool you, Dean,” Charlie said with a grin. “I've seen some of his stuff and it's great. He's going to take pictures for our Moondoor page, too.”

Before he could respond, Dean heard little Gertie Fitzgerald yelling for him.

“Mr. Dean, my ball won’t come back!”

As Dean picked up the microphone once again to call Benny- _ball return, Lane eight, that's a ball return on Lane eight-_ and Charlie signaled that she and Cas were going to get started. Dean spent the rest of the morning working the snack bar and going from lane to lane, helping where needed, acutely aware of Cas floating about, clicking away. By the time 11:00 rolled around, Dean had collected all the team envelopes and most of the kids were near the end of the last game.

Dean threw in an order of chicken tenders for Benny, knowing the man would want to eat after the league ended. Dean refilled his Yeti with coffee and found himself grinning when Castiel sat at a barstool. 

“That smells delicious,” Castiel said, “can I get an order of those?”

“Course,” Dean said, reaching into the mini-fridge and pulling out a pre-portioned bag of tenders. Like clockwork, Benny came up from down back and took his lunch with a grateful smile, taking himself to the back office with a teasing wink at Dean and Castiel that Dean scowled at while Cas grinned. 

“So, tell me. What kind of pictures do you like to take? Are we talkin’ Glamour Shots here, or something artsier like, I don't know, bumblebees on a rose petal?”

Castiel laughed, placing his camera up on the bar. “Hmm. Bees, yes. Glamour shots, not so much,” Castiel tapped his chin in mock consideration. “ I might have a fedora you could wear and we could give it a go,” Cas teased.

"Make that a cowboy hat, and you have yourself a deal," Dean volleyed back and Cas let out a huff of laughter.

“No, um, actually, I really like nature shots. And landscapes. I’m actually dying to get at the town's lighthouse.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean smiled. Now, that was something he could help with.

“The view alone must be spectacular,” Castiel said, smiling his thanks at Dean when he placed a boat of chicken tenders in front of him.

“Well, I can probably help you with that if your afternoon is free,” Dean said.

“Help out with what?” Charlie said as she plopped herself down on the stool next to Cas’. She went to steal a piece of chicken and Dean slapped her hand.

“Get your own,” he grumbled at her, completely nonplussed by her pout. Dean grabbed another bag of chicken for the fryer.

“Dean said he could help me get into the lighthouse. I've been wanting to get pictures from the top ever since I moved here.”

“Well, he's definitely the one to ask,” Charlie said with a grin and Castiel cocked his head at her.

“Why do I feel like I'm missing something?” he questioned.

“Tell you what, Cas,” Dean said, ignoring Castiel's remark and glancing at the clock. “ You run home and grab a sweatshirt or something because it gets really windy up there, and meet me back here at one o'clock. Jo should be here to take over for me by then, and we can go get a look at that view you want to snap so bad.” Jo Harvelle was a family friend and the assistant manager of Winchester Lanes.

Dean would be lying if the smile Castiel beamed at him didn't make him feel weak in the knees, and the smirk Charlie was shooting him told him that he needed a better poker face.

“Thank you, Dean, truly.”

“No problem, Cas,” Dean said waving Castiel's hand away when he tried to pay for his chicken. “It's on me this time, buddy. And, uh, leave the pimpmobile at home, we’ll take Baby,” Dean teased, laughing when Castiel rolled his eyes dramatically.

"It's not that bad, Dean," Castiel scoffed.

"I beg to differ, Cas."

"I'm going to agree to disagree instead of arguing, since you're giving me what I want," Castiel rumbled lowly, shooting Dean coy smirk that left his mouth dry. "I'll see you at one, Dean. Goodbye, Charlie. I will email you those pictures after I upload them to my computer and go through them."

"Sweet," Charlie said, holding out her fist, shaking it until Castiel understood she wanted him to bump it, which he did, awkwardly.

Dean's gaze followed Cas all the way to the door as he left.

“Someone has a cru-ush,” Charlie sang, and Dean stared at her, unimpressed.

"Are you twelve?"

"Dean and Castiel, sitting in a lighthouse-"

"Shut up," he whined.

“What? I don't swing that way, but even I can see he's dreamy. What's the problem?”

“You know what the problem is, Charlie.”

“Not really. You said you didn't want to date someone unless it could be serious. You don't think it could be serious with Cas? He's smart, sweet, gorgeous, and he obviously likes you, too. What's the holdup, handmaiden?”

Dean sighed. Charlie was right, Castiel was all of those things and more. But he was also newly out of the closet, and Dean had been down that road before.

“Look, Cas is great. He's perfect, even. But this is all new to him and I'm not real gung-ho on letting myself fall for a guy only to have him decide later that he's changed his mind.” That was the crux of it, no point in beating around the bush.

Charlie chewed her chicken thoughtfully before responding. “I get it, Dean. I really do. But sometimes you just have to put yourself out there. Not every person is going to be like Leo.”

At his ex-boyfriend's name, Dean grit his teeth. “I don't want to talk about this anymore.” Dean was happy to be Castiel's friend, and even though he would love to be something infinitely _more_ , he couldn't risk it. _Wouldn’t_ , his inner voice whispered, which Dean promptly told to shut up.

“Alright,” Charlie said, “but I just want to say this: Castiel isn't an immature frat boy in his twenties. He has a good head on his shoulders, and he seems to know exactly what he wants. I'm just saying, maybe keep an open mind.”

Oh, how Dean wished he could. Instead, he just let himself focus on at least being able to be Cas' friend. 

* * *

Dean had just slipped his flannel on over his Winchester Lanes tee-shirt and stepped outside of the building when Castiel jogged over from across the street. Dean noticed he had changed into jeans and a pair of sneakers and had a bright orange hoodie on. It should have looked ridiculous but instead just made him even more attractive. Cas had his camera hanging by a strap around his neck and he smile one of those eye crinkling smiles that gave Dean butterflies, making it impossible for him not to return the gesture.

“Thank you again, Dean. Are you sure the Lighthouse Keeper isn't going to mind?” Castiel asked as he followed Dean to the Impala.

“I guarantee it. Hop in.” 

It was a short drive from Winchester Lanes up to the Angel's Bend lighthouse. Dean loved his small town. Some people got annoyed with how crowded it became in the summer, but he thrived on the hustle and bustle. Dean enjoyed watching families traipse from shop to shop along the bench lined sidewalks. The briny air laced with suntan oil filtered in through the windows of the car, and he breathed it in.

A quick side glance showed Castiel wearing a soft smile as his fingers drummed on his jean-clad thigh to the rhythm of _Shook Me All Night Long_. Of course. Not only was Cas gorgeous, but he alsohad good taste in music too.

“So, what's the verdict, Cas? You think you'll be sticking around our little town for a while?” Dean stopped at the red light and looked at Castiel only to find him peering back with a puzzled expression on his arresting face.

“Dean, are you under the impression that I'm only here temporarily?”

The question made him pause, “ I guess I just assumed that maybe this was just a pit stop. You know, while you figured out what you wanted to do now."

“Well, I will say that as much as I love Gabriel, I do not plan on living with him indefinitely, but I can assure you, I am quite happy here in Angel's Bend,” there was weight behind Castiel’s words as he spoke. “I have no intention of leaving.”

Dean swallowed, hard, knowing he wasn't imagining the reassuring tone of Castiel’s voice.

They didn't speak again until Dean pulled up to the lighthouse. Dean pulled into the driveway of the keeper’s quarters and Castiel let out a gasp of the delight. 

“What a beautiful home! Oh, I would love to live here,” Cas said as he climbed out of the car. The house was a small Cape Style, with a coat of fresh white paint, and boasted navy-trimmed shutters bracketing cheerful window boxes filled with wildflowers. A cobblestone path led from the front door and curved up and to the left all the way to the entrance of the lighthouse.

“There doesn't appear to be anybody home, are you sure this is okay?” Castiel’s brow furrowed adorably, and Dean laughed.

“I’m positive,” Dean said as he watched Castiel immediately begin taking pictures. Dean followed behind as Castiel started walking up the path. He bit the inside of his cheek as Castiel made his way up to the lighthouse, pausing at the large plaque embossed on the door.

_Angel’s Bend Lighthouse_

_established 1877_

_Maintained by the Winchester family._

“Surprise,” Dean said, jokingly, with jazz hands as Castiel goggled at him. “Welcome to my lighthouse.”

  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Castiel lost his voice as his eyes bounced between Dean and the towering Lighthouse before him. 

“Are you serious right now? You’re a Lighthouse Keeper?” Castiel asked, with wonder and Dean laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners.

”Not exactly,” he said, beckoning Castiel forward as he pulled his keys out of his pocket to open the door. “This Lighthouse hasn't been active since before my grandfather was born," he swept his arm out in a welcoming gesture. "Navigation's improved so much over the years, you know? S'made them pretty obsolete."

Dean's deep timbre echoed inside of the stone tower, somehow soothing in its resonance. The air inside was cool, and Castiel's breath caught as he peered up through the spiral wrought iron staircase that led to the glassed-in Lantern room. Their footsteps echoed as they made their ascent to the top.

Dean's face was flushed pink with exertion by the time they reached the light room. 

“Are your legs burning like mine are?” Dean asked with a laugh and Castiel, amused, shrugged nonchalantly, making Dean scowl. “Right, what's two-hundred and seven steps to somebody with runner's legs like yours,” he pouted adorably.

Dean opened the door to the circular balcony, and Castiel couldn't stop the audible gasp as he took in the view.

“Holy shit!”

Dean laughed. “Right? Pretty Awesome.”

The shimmering Atlantic spread out before them, transparent and blue. The waves were choppy, rippling like shattered glass under the sunlight. The effect was enchanting, and Castiel was in awe. A seagull arched through the sky, it’s shadow dancing over the surface of the water and Castiel wasted no time in lifting his camera.

“How did your family come to live here?” Castiel asked as he began taking shots.

“Well,” Dean began, as he came to rest his arms on the railing, shoulder to shoulder with Cas. "All of the Winchester Patriarchs were keepers," Castiel could hear the pride in Dean's voice, “My fourth-great-grandfather was one of the original builders of the lighthouse. He owned this land and oversaw every stage of building. He lived on-site in a keeper’s house, much smaller than what I have now. By the time it passed to Grandpa Henry, the lighthouse had gone from oil lit to electric, to the Historical Society eventually naming it a historical town landmark. ”

"Wait, so does that mean you have to give tours?" Castiel tried to imagine the road to Dean's house lined with cars, and his lovely yard overrun by foot traffic and it made him sad.

"Nah, it's private property, the only day I open it to the public is on our town's Founder's Day. Jody usually sends a few soft-clothed officers over from nine to four, and people park at the beach down the street and walk from there. Sometimes I need to let photographers out here."

“You said the house was smaller than yours, what happened to the original?” Castiel asked as he began to take pictures of the horizon. When he looked down, he saw that the outlining shadow of rocks did indeed resemble an angel’s wings, and when the waves crashed against them, the arching white spray made it seem as though they were in flight. Stunning.

“Torn down and rebuilt when my grandfather got married to my Grandmother Millie. I never knew her, she passed away when my dad was a kid. They'd always planned on having more than just my dad, so Grandpa Henry wanted something bigger.”

Castiel stopped taking photos and turned to look at Dean. The sunlight on his hair teased out a motley of colors ranging from rich brown caramel and ginger to old gold. The effect was too ethereal for him not to take a picture and Dean's face snapped to his when he heard the click of the shutter. Eyes like Autumn Leaves sparkled back at him, alight with humor.

“I thought you were here cause you wanted to take pictures of the beautiful view?” Dean asked with a playfully arched brow.

Castiel captured another picture of the man in front of him. “I am,” he said, smiling when his words caused Dean to blush.

“Anyway,” Dean deflected, “ When Grandpa Henry died, he left the place to me.”

Done with the photos for now, Castiel leaned back against the railing, grateful for his hoodie as the wind whipped around them.

“Why not your father?” Castiel saw a dark shadow pass over Dean's face at the question. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to bring back any bad memories.”

“No, s’okay. Uh, my dad, he never wanted to stay in Angel’s Bend, he didn't care about any family legacy. John Winchester wanted to travel, he wanted to see things," Dean's voice held no bitterness, only acceptance. "I get that, the wanderlust. I take Baby on two or three road trips a year. Nothing like opening her up on a long stretch of highway in the middle of nowhere,” Dean’s eyes drifted towards the sea before them, and Castiel burrowed against his side, pleased when Dean leaned into the touch.

“Anyway, Dad took off when he was eighteen, and joined the Marines. He met my mom, Mary, when he got out. Finally settled down in Lebanon, Kansas.”

Castiel cocked his head. “So, you weren’t born here?”

“Nope. We didn't move here until I was almost five, and Sammy was just a baby. My mom, she uh, died in a house fire. Faulty wiring or some shit.”

“My God, Dean, I’m so sorry.” Castiel frowned when Dean shrugged it off, clearly uncomfortable, and he was unable to stop himself from drawing the man into a tight embrace. Dean held himself stiff for a moment before relaxing into Castiel's arms, his chilled face settling into the crook of Cas’ neck.

“Mm. you smell good,” Dean murmured into his skin, his warm breath making Castiel shiver. “Citrusy.”

Castiel laughed softly. “Body wash,” was all he said.

They drew apart slowly, Dean’s cheeks tinged pink with a what Cas suspected was a mixture of the chilly wind and his vulnerability. 

“Anyway,” Dean continued, gruffly, “We moved back home with Grandpa Henry, and my dad started working with Bobby Singer. He found Baby in a junkyard and fixed her up in his free time. Impressed Bobby so much that he made him in charge of restorations. Things were going well, he was doing better, but he wound up dying of a heart attack when I was sixteen. Grandpa Henry did the best he could with us, but taking care of Sammy mostly fell to me because he was pushing seventy by then.”

Castiel listened, raptly, saddened that Dean had had so much loss at such a young age.

“Dad's life insurance went into a college fund for Sam and me, and when Grandpa Henry died five years later, the house went to me, along with the duty of maintaining the lighthouse for the town."

“What about your brother? Did he have no interest?”

Dean shook his head, “ No, Sammy wanted to move to California, and I wanted to stay here, so it worked out for the best that way. Angel’s Bend is the only place that felt like home to me, you know?”

Castiel’s own home had been cold and stifling until Daphne. Then it was filled with warmth and love, and friendship, which he would always cherish.

“But Sam wound up back here anyway?”

Dean’s face broke out in a smug smile. “Yeah. Damn moose got homesick halfway through school and transferred from Stanford to Havard. He moved back home with me after he graduated, until he met Rowena,” Castiel was startled when Dean's hands reached out to cover his cheeks. “You're freezing, let's continue this back at the house. I'll make you dinner. I even have one of Gabe's pies in my fridge we can have for dessert.”

“That sounds perfect, Dean, thank you.”

The descent back down the spiral staircase was much quicker than their way up, and by the time they made it back down Cas was ready to unzip his hoodie, no longer feeling chilled after the walk. 

The inside of Dean's house was just as charming as the outside, and Castiel was amazed at how immediately at home he felt. From the entryway, the living room spilled out before them in an open floor plan. The hardwood floors were whitewashed, adding to the beach house feel. Unlike the Navy trim on the outside of the house, the inside walls were a light powder blue, reminiscent of the sky on a clear day.

A throw rug of braided green and blue and brown covered a large portion of the living room floor, and a tan leather sofa sat in the middle, facing the wall where a ridiculously large flat screen was mounted. There was a large round coffee table the color of driftwood housing a pair of reading glasses and remote control, and adjacent from the couch was a large Papasan chair padded with a mint green cushion.

An all-white butcher-block island separated the living room from the kitchen and Castiel could see the ocean from the window above the sink. The appliances were professional-grade from the fridge to the stove and Castiel could tell it was well-loved space. To the left of the kitchen was a short hallway, and Castiel followed Dean as he gave him the tour. They passed a guest bath and bedroom and a small laundry room, to the foot of the stairs.

“Up here is another bedroom,” Dean said, opening the door and revealing a pretty room with a double bed and a wide window seat that also overlooked the water. “And this here is my room,” Castiel followed Dean into the space, thinking immediately, that it suited him. A king-size bed with a comforter in plaid earth tones with a gorgeous iron headboard sat against the wall. A television, half the size of the one in the living room sat on top of a large bureau in the same heather-gray driftwood color of the coffee table downstairs. A framed black-and-white photo of Dean's Baby hung above it, bracketed by two pictures; one of a beautiful golden-haired woman holding a child Castiel could tell was Dean just from the green of his eyes, and the other was of an older man with his arm slung around the shoulders of another man, and two children standing in front of them as they leaned against the lighthouse.

“That’s Sam and me with my dad and Grandpa Henry,” Dean said with a soft smile.

“It's a lovely picture, Dean. Is this one your mother?”

“Sure is. Gorgeous, wasn't she?” Dean asked proudly, and Castiel nodded with a smile.

To the right of the room there was a bathroom, and to the left, a small balcony that opened up with a sliding glass door. Cas couldn't help stepping outside to take a picture of the grand view of the lighthouse and the sea.

Dean chuckled at him in amusement, “Alright, let's go Ansel Adams. I'm starving.”

Castiel reluctantly stopped clicking away, and followed Dean back down the stairs to the kitchen, sitting on one of the kitchen stools.

“Do you need any help? Put me to work.”

“No worries, man, I got this. You want a drink? I got beer, wine, milk. Some healthy kale smoothie shit Sam makes me keep in the refrigerator,” Dean offered with a grimace.

Castiel laughed. “I wouldn't say no to a glass of wine.”

Dean got them both a glass of Riesling called _Relax_ , and Castiel hummed appreciatively when he took a sip.

“You like shrimp?”

“I love it,” Castiel said, enjoying watching Dean in his element in the kitchen. “So, I want to hear more about how you wound up owning the bowling alley,” Castiel said as Dean put on a pot of water to boil, salting it liberally. “You said you won the money in Vegas on a slot machine. Must have been a pretty big win.”

Dean laughed as he put a skillet on the stove and drizzled some Tuscan oil on it, setting the heat to low. He diced garlic with a deft hand on a small cutting board, before tossing it into the pan.

“Not as big as you’d think,” Dean said as he added angel hair pasta to the now boiling water. “ I won twenty-five grand, but I had also saved a lot of money over the years just through work. I worked at a grocery store, at Bobby’s. I bartended for a while,“ Dean glanced up from his knife fork and gave a saucy wink, “I even spent a summer as a male stripper.”

“You did not,” Castiel said, astonished, though not knowing why. The man certainly had the looks for it.

Dean cackled. “I certainly did. Started out as a cowboy, wound up in a pair of pink satin panties,” the image had Castiel draining his glass of wine in half.

“I bought the bowling center from Rufus Turner, lock stock & barrel,” Dean said. “It was a fair price, especially considering he could have really jacked me on the equipment. I mean, do you have any idea how expensive a Lane Machine is? Nevermind Pinsetters.” Castiel didn't even know what a _Lane_ _Machine_ was. He watched as Dean drained the pasta and put a little bit of the water aside, then added butter to the skillet along with a container of shelled and deveined shrimp from the refrigerator. “The Vegas thing just made it happen sooner,” Dean continued, as he tossed in the shrimp. 

“But why a bowling alley?” Castiel asked, nodding his thanks when Dean refilled his wine glass. “ Why not Chef of your own restaurant?” he asked with a raised brow, watching as Dean added some heavy cream and pasta water to the butter, garlic, and shrimp, whisking it until a pan sauce developed. 

"That smells heavenly,” Castiel said pointedly, and Dean flashed him a quick smile of appreciation before he drained the pasta and added it to the pan with the shrimp, twirling it in the garlic cream sauce.

“Owning a restaurant is a lot of work, and I cook because I enjoy it. I was afraid if I tried to make a career out of it, it would lose the appeal. Plus, the bowling alley has all the things I like. I get to work with my hands, I get to talk to good people. I get to work with kids,” Dean reached into the cabinet and grabbed two shallow bowls and proceeded to dish up their meal. “It doesn’t fuck up my social life, and I still get to see Sam and Ro," Dean sent Cas a charming smile, " And I get to make my new friend dinner," he winked playfully. "A chef is married to their work. I want to be married to a person."

Castiel searched Dean's gaze, the sincerity shining in his eyes keeping him momentarily drowning in their depths. The temptation to lean across the counter was strong but Dean was suddenly clearing his throat and spinning to grab forks out of the silverware drawer. He passed one over to Castiel before he sat down across from him.

“Thank you, it looks amazing, Dean.”

Dean's smiled, almost bashfully. “Thanks, Cas. Now,” he said, as he twirled his fork in the pasta, “We spent all day talking about me. I want to talk about you, now. What would Castiel Novak be doing on a Saturday night if he hadn't wound up working in a cafe in Angel’s Bend?”

“First of all, I enjoy learning new things about you, Dean. Being around you... makes me happy,” the words were blunt in their simplicity and Castiel was charmed to see that they made Dean flush. 

Castiel took a bite of his pasta and groaned as the flavor burst on his tongue. He found a little surge of pride when the sound made Dean's eyes darken with obvious desire, chewing on his bottom lip.

“What would I be doing on a Saturday night? Well, I would have spent at least part of the evening going over the next day’s sermon with my father. He always liked to have an audience, so I was always lucky enough to hear Sunday sermon twice,” he said with mock enthusiasm “ _Do not face the day until you face God in prayer._ My mother said that everyday,” Castiel nodded when Dean tipped the wine bottle towards his glass in question.

“Do you miss it? Going over sermons with your dad, I mean?” Dean asked the question trepidatiously, obviously not wanting to make Castiel uncomfortable. “You don't have to answer if you don't-”

“No, it's okay,” Castiel was quick to reassure him. “I was never close to my parents. I was a pastor's son, and they were very strict. There were rules. I dated who I was told to date, I went to school for what I was told was appropriate for someone of my station. 

“So, what? Accounting was on your parents' list of approved jobs for a church boy?”

“Essentially, yes,” Cas said with a laugh. “ _Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed, Castiel,"_ he said in a mock imitation of his father's voice. " I went to school for accounting because I knew if I told my parents I wanted to go to school for photography that they would have laughed in my face. ”

“What about Daphne? How did she fit into all of this?”

Castiel wasn't surprised that Dean had questions about her.

“She's my best friend. We've known each other since we were teenagers, and she was on the parent-approved list,” he said with a sardonic laugh. “We love each other, and in the beginning we… I guess we kind of fooled ourselves into thinking that we were _in_ love with each other. But things were always... off. At least in the intimate area of our lives and over the years we just kind of accepted it. The sexual aspect... It was never more important than the affection we had for each other,” Castiel said thoughtfully and speared his last piece of shrimp. They finished their pasta and Castiel passed his empty bowl to Dean when he reached his hand out for it, watching as he rinsed and loaded it into the dishwasher.

“So what changed?” Dean asked as he grabbed another bottle of wine and both of their glasses, bringing them into the living room. Castiel followed, settling down next to Dean on the couch, angling to face him, with one leg up on the cushion in the other on the floor.

“I always knew I was attracted to men, deep down, but I didn't allow myself to think about it. Not purposely, anyway. It wasn't until I went to the wedding of two of my friends from college. Cesar and Jesse,” Castiel felt so loose and relaxed, as though he talked this intimately with Dean all the time. He knew part of it was the wine, but mostly it was Dean.‘

“They were out, and proud, and so happy. And I remember watching them have their first dance, and the way they looked at each other like there was nothing more important than each other's happiness,” Cas shook his head softly, “I knew at that moment that no matter how much I loved Daphne, we didn't have that kind of love. We couldn't.”

“And that's when you came out?”

Castiel shifted on his seat. “No. I still wasn't ready. The truth is, when I did come out, it was by accident. After I'd finally admitted to myself that I wanted what Cesar and Jesse had, I wanted to talk to Daphne right away and end things...but I wasn't ready to deal with those consequences yet," Castiel paused to take a sip of his wine and Dean waited beside him, patiently. "You asked me if I missed it, going over those sermons with my dad,” Castiel furrowed his brow pensively, ” I didn't miss the message he conveyed, I never agreed with his version of Christianity anyway, but I wasn't ready to give up that little bit of time where for once a week, I was important to him for something. Even if it was just to be his audience.”

Dean's face was full of compassion as he listened to Castiel's story.

“Damn, Cas. So then…?”

“So when _did_ I come out?” Castiel asked and Dean nodded over his glass of wine. “That would be when my wife came home early from work and caught me jerking off to gay porn.”

Dean choked on his wine and Castiel patted his back.

“Dude!”

“I know.”

“God, how embarrassing,” Dean said, painfully.

“Yes, thank you, Dean, I was there,” Castiel said dryly.

They moved on to lighter subjects after that, and when Dean learned that Castiel had never seen the Lord of the Rings, he immediately put on the first movie. They were well into their second bottle of wine when Dean decided that Castiel would be sleeping in the guest room, as there was no way he was in any condition to drive Cas back home. 

“Sorry, man. I should have thought of that. I'll bring you home after breakfast in the morning,” Dean said over a mouthful of cherry pie. 

Castiel laughed, feeling warm and tipsy. “You mean I have to stay overnight in a lovely home with a spectacular view of the sea, after enjoying delicious shrimp scampi, cherry pie, and wine? What a hardship.”

By the time they had made it to the Two Towers, they had taken a break to change, Dean letting Castiel borrow a pair of sweatpants and an old band t-shirt, that carried Dean’s delicious summer scent; woodsmoke and salt. 

They had drifted closer together on the couch, where Castiel could lay his head on Dean's shoulder if he so chose to. Dean, he was amused to see, was on his second piece of pie. “Good?” Castiel asked, noticing that his voice was rough. Watching the utensil slide out of Dean's mouth and his tongue clean the tines of the fork, had the now-familiar want stirring inside him.

Dean set the fork down on the now nearly empty plate. “Best midnight snack ever, Cas.” 

Castiel had to agree, Gabriel's cherry pie was truly the best finish to any day. Especially when he had the pleasure of watching Dean eat it.

“Here, let me get that,” Feeling emboldened by the wine, Cas brought his thumb up to Dean's plump bottom lip, rubbing at the sticky cherry filling that dotted the soft flesh. Seeing Dean's eyes widen, he brought his thumb to his mouth and sucked gently. Dean followed the movement with his gaze, and Castiel couldn't help himself; he surged forward and fastened his mouth to Dean's. 

For a second, time stopped, and there was nothing but heat. The slick, slide of tongues as they stroked against each other. Dean tasted of cherries and wine and _need_. It was everything, until-

“Cas, we can’t,” Dean whispered against his lips, and he jerked back. Castiel couldn't help feeling rejected. He knew Dean could feel what he felt. He _knew_ it.

“Dean, why are you pushing me away?” he studied forest green eyes; they held both desire and apology in their depths. Castiel cocked his head, puzzled. When Dean didn’t answer, Cas growled in frustration.

“I deserve to know, Dean.”

Dean sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face.

“Look, Cas. I’ve been someone’s big gay experiment before. I was lucky to escape with my heart bruised, but mostly intact. But with you…” Dean shook his head, eyes skating away. “It might be fun for you for a while and maybe we confirm that you do indeed, only want dick in your diet,” Castiel choked at the crude words, coupled with a flash of desire as images of him and Dean and naked flesh filled his mind. “But eventually you’re going to wanna meet other people, have more new experiences. You’re not gonna stay with the first guy you happened to find attractive or have sex with,” Dean said sadly. “Not when you don’t even know what you want or like yet.”

The heat Castiel had felt turned to nausea as he took in the meaning of Dean’s words.

”You think that because I have never been with a man, that I’m only going to want you until I...what? Get bored and want to see if someone else does it for me?” The words came out harsher than he intended, but Castiel couldn’t help but be offended.

“Don’t get mad, Cas,” Dean said calmly and Castiel couldn’t hold back the scoff.

“Don’t get mad when you’re making me out to be this fickle person who would just use you for sex, then move on? Sorry, Dean, but explain to me how that isn’t insulting?” Castiel growled as he crowded into Dean’s space on the couch, movie now long forgotten.

“Cas, this is a time of self-discovery for you. Everything is new and exciting right now. But, _fuck_ , Cas, I’m thirty-four years old. I’m done with one-night stands and steamy flings. I’m ready for more. I want a partner in life. Marriage, maybe kids. A stupid dog that we’ll fight about having to take outside at the ass crack of dawn. The whole domestic shebang,” Dean raised his brow, looking at Castiel pointedly. “Cas, you just got out of a decade-long marriage. Can you honestly tell me you’re ready to immediately jump into a committed relationship with the first guy you’ve ever kissed?”

While Castiel listened to Dean's words, he felt his anger ebbing away. Dean obviously had a real fear of opening his heart up, and as aggravated, and slightly embarrassed as he was at Dean's rebuff, he wasn't going to be put off. He certainly wasn't going to let it put a crimp in the friendship that had come to mean so much to him in such a short period of time. Dean was afraid of getting burned, Castiel could appreciate that. It didn't mean he had to give up. Castiel had waited ten long years before being truthful with himself enough to start to live the life he wanted, and what he wanted was Dean Winchester.

Dean was looking at him so sincerely, and Castiel couldn't help the small smile that kicked up the corner of his mouth. 

“I’ll make you a deal,” Castiel said in lieu of answering his question and laughed when Dean’s brows shot up in surprise. Clearly, his change in attitude was unexpected.

“Oh yeah?” Dean's bright green eyes held amused interest. “What kind of deal?”

“We continue on as we have been the last few months; hanging out, getting to know each other and if after 6 months, if you still feel about me the way I _know_ I'll still feel about you, you agree to date me.” Castiel arched his brow, the gauntlet thrown and he felt triumphant when a grin broke out on Dean’s gorgeous face.

“You’re cocky for a newb, you know that?” Dean said and Castiel tipped his head back as he let out a bark of laughter.

“Dean, I have had _years_ of doing what everybody else wanted instead of what I wanted,” he said frankly. ”But not anymore.” Castiel reached out and took Dean’s hand. “ I don't need six months to be sure that I want this. But I understand if you do, and I want you to take this time so you can start to trust that I mean what I say.” Castiel said directly, laying it all out on the table.

Dean just shook his head, fond exasperation evident on his face. “If I agree to this challenge of yours,” Dean said, “they're going to have to be some rules.”

“Rules?” Castiel asked, skeptically. “Pray tell, what kind of rules?”

“You’re adorable when you squint your eyes at me like that,” Dean said and Castiel rolled them in response. “ Well for one, if it at any time somebody else comes along that sparks your interest, you have to be open to it.”

“What does that mean? You want me to _date_ people while I'm waiting to _date_ you?” 

“I'm not saying go out with every jackass that asks you out at the bar,” Dean clarified. “I'm saying if along the way somebody makes a connection with you, don't turn it away because you're too proud to admit that maybe I'm right about you needing some field-playing time.”

Castiel regarded him coolly, though silently he cursed everyone whoever made Dean feel like he was replaceable or not enough.

“All right, fine,” Castiel said confidently. “But only if you agree not to let _your_ pride get in the way of _you_ giving in when you realize I'm completely serious and invested in us being together.”

“There’s that cockiness again,” Dean teased and Castiel shrugged good-naturedly before leaning into Dean's space.

“Shall we kiss to seal the deal?” Castiel asked playfully. “What?” he cocked his head when Dean merely lifted a brow. “Friends kiss.”

Dean's hand came out to cup the nape of Castiel's neck, a soft smile playing about his pretty mouth. Castiel felt his whole body warm from the inside out as Dean leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Cas' forehead.

“Shaddup and watch the movie, Cas.”


	5. Chapter 5

Despite helping Castiel drink three bottles of wine, Dean was wide awake. Cas had fallen asleep against his shoulder during an episode of _Scooby-Doo_. It turns out classic cartoons were another thing Cas had missed out on growing up, and Dean had been happy to help rectify that travesty. The glow from the TV was the only light in the room, casting a bluish shadow over them in the dark. The soft strands of Cas' hair tickled Dean's chin, and the scent of citrus and something earthy teased his senses.

Dean sighed, head falling to the back of the couch. _Who the fuck was he kidding_? Six months or six days, the only thing that was going to save him from falling even deeper for Castiel was breaking off communication. He wasn't strong enough for that. It was terrifying, the depths of his feelings. It wasn't as though he hadn't had any serious relationships since Leo. The man hadn't put him off of love, but it had made him cautious when choosing partners. Castiel made him want to break all of his rules, and it was terrifying. 

Dean allowed himself one more minute to enjoy the warm press of Cas' body against his own, imagining that this could be his life if he were willing to risk it. Movie nights with Castiel that ended cuddled up like this. When Cas shifted against him, sinking further into Dean's side, he knew it was time to wake him up and get him to bed.

Dean gently rubbed Castiel's shoulder. "Cas? Hey, buddy, wake up for a minute."

Castiel only nudged his face into the skin of Dean's neck, snuffling, and Dean laughed quietly.

"Cas, c'mon,"

"No," Castiel's voice was sleep roughened and entirely too sexy for Dean's sanity. 

"You don't even have to go far, there's a bed waiting for you right down the hall," Dean said, but Castiel only reached his arm across Dean's stomach and curled his fingers into the fabric of his shirt. 

"Let's stay here," Cas rasped out. "Friends cuddle."

Dean shook with laughter as he realized Cas was fucking with him. Castiel dragged himself up and looked at Dean with bleary eyes and a half-smile.

"Come on, let's get you a glass of water; otherwise, you'll be crying when all the singing at church turns your hangover headache into a migraine."

"I could skip church," Castiel offered.

"No, you love church."

Castiel sighed, "I _do_ love church," he admitted defeatedly, and Dean snickered. Cas was still tipsy, and it was amusing.

Dean set Castiel up in the first-floor guest room after making him down a glass of water and a couple of Advil. He left another bottle of water and pills on the nightstand for the morning after Castiel climbed into bed. 

"Goodnight, Dean," Castiel murmured, face already buried in the pillows, and Dean turned off the light.

"Night, Cas," he whispered. 

Dean brought the wine glasses into the kitchen and drank his glass of water standing up in the kitchen before going through his nightly lock-up routine. After the remarkable day he'd had, Dean thought he would have a hard time drifting off to sleep. Instead, after dragging himself upstairs, Dean collapsed onto his bed and was asleep before he'd hummed the first verse of _Simple Man_ in his head.

* * *

He woke to the smell of bacon. Dean groaned as he stretched in bed, moving slowly, pleased when his head didn't feel foggy, the way wine sometimes made him the next day. After going to the bathroom, Dean brushed his teeth and splashed some water on his face, in an attempt to make himself feel more human. When he came down the stairs and into the kitchen, he found Castiel looking sleep tousled and cheerful as he slid bacon onto a paper towel covered plate. He smiled entirely too wide for someone who had drunk so much the night before.

"I can't cook much, but I can manage eggs and bacon. Sit. Here, you look like a grumpy bear," Castiel's voice was like worn sandpaper, and he looked terrific in Dean's shirt, muscled arms showcased beautifully. Dean loved a man who matched him for strength, though if he was honest, Dean didn't doubt Castiel could pin him in seconds. Dean flushed when Castiel's amused smirk let him know his ogling had been noticed. Cas slid a cup of coffee in front of him, and Dean groaned his appreciation.

He sipped, enjoying the rich bite of dark roast and swallowed slowly. When his eyes met deep blue, he saw that Castiel appeared dazed as he surveyed Dean, teeth tugging on his pillowy bottom lip. 

"What time is it?" Dean finally spoke, and Castiel seemed to jerk back to wherever his mind had wandered off to.

"7:30"

Dean groaned and buried his face in the crook of his elbow on the table, piteously. 

Castiel laughed, the rough sound sending tingles down Dean's spine. God, he'd forgotten what it felt like; that early stage of infatuation where everything the other person said or did just _sent_ you. But damn if Castiel didn't look right, at home in his space.

"Not a morning person, are you?" Castiel teased, and Dean glared at him with one eye open. 

"My place doesn't open until eleven. And it's Sunday. It's my day off, man. Waking up before nine is like, offensive," he said, as Castiel chuckled at his dramatics.

"You're the one who promised to bring me home in time to get ready for Church."

Dean grunted, not really annoyed, but sad at having to lose Cas' company so soon.

"Here, eat."

Dean sat up, accepting the plate of scrambled eggs and bacon, immediately biting into a slice and moaning a little too enthusiastically for company. "This is great, thanks, Cas."

"Well, it was in your fridge, so _thank_ you," Castiel grinned.

A ping sounded on the cell phone on the counter, and Dean watched with interest as Castiel picked it up, thumbing the screen open. He couldn't help wondering who was texting Cas so early.

"Is church canceled?" Dean asked hopefully, and Castiel leveled him with a deadpan expression, before going back to his text.

"It's Daphne."

The words seemed to hit Dean out of nowhere. He felt a little sick, though he didn't know why. Cas had told him that he and Daphne had parted on good terms, but for some reason, it still jarred him. He couldn't imagine being on a casual text basis with any of his exes. Then again, he'd never spent a decade with someone before either. Dean was curious about whether or not Cas maybe had some regrets, or if he wished he'd tried harder or perhaps Castiel realized he wasn't gay at all-"

"Hey," Cas' hand was cupping his cheek, pulling Dean out of his spiral. His eyes searched him intently, brows furrowed as he studied Dean. "Where did you go?" Castiel murmured, and Dean let out a nervous laugh.

"Nowhere, sorry. Just spaced," Dean's excuse fooled no one, and Castiel placed a hand over Dean's.

"When you're ready, I'd like to hear the full story of who hurt you and why you immediately jump to the worst-case scenario," Dean swallowed harshly, unnerved at how well Castiel could read him after such a brief acquaintance. "She's excited for me, Daphne. I told her about you," Cas said, frankly and Dean was at a loss for words for a moment before finding his words.

"You did?" he could hear the surprise in his voice, and Castiel cocked his head at him, smiling sweetly.

"The very first day we met," Castiel said. "Nearly four months ago, and I was so flustered by your beauty that I couldn't even take your order."

"Jesus," Dean breathed out at the blunt confession. 

"She wishes me happiness, as I wish her. I love her, but I am not and never have been, _in love_ with her. "

"Cas, you don't owe me explanations," Dean protested, feeling guilty that Cas felt the need to defend himself.

"It isn't about owing, Dean. I _want_ you to know. "

It was silent for a few beats, as Dean twirled his fork around in his eggs, Castiel patiently sipping on his coffee as Dean worked out what he wanted to say.

"When I was in college, I met this guy," Dean began. "He was your typical frat boy, but he was fun, smart. He was older, but I graduated before him. I always knew I wanted to own my own business, there was no bouncing from different major to major the way Leo did. He was kinda floating along because he wasn't sure what he wanted to do yet." Dean paused to refill their coffee cups, grateful that Castiel didn't interrupt, and just waited patiently.

"We shared a few classes and got to be friends. We partied a lot, hooked up with girls, all the stupid shit horny guys in their early twenties do. After I graduated, he took off for a few years. Traveled around a bit, crashed with different family members. I didn't see him again until I was twenty-seven, and I'd already bought the bowling alley. We were hanging out one night at Harvelle's. Just done some pretty spectacular karaoke," he said with a half-smile, and Castiel grinned.

"I'd like to see that," Cas said, and Dean winked.

"Gotta get me drunk enough first. Anyway, at the end of the night, he shocked me by just laying one on me right in the bar. I never hid that I was bi, but as far as I knew, Leo was straight. Still, there he was, macking on me for all the world to see," Dean couldn't look at Cas as he told the story, it felt weird, so instead he stared down into his coffee cup, pushing forward. " Leo told me that when he was staying in California, he'd had this realization that the reason things never worked out with any of the women he dated was that he liked men. How I was part of how he'd figured it out; that he thought about me all the time, and that I was why he had come home," Dean swallowed, forcing himself to look Cas in the eyes. He found nothing but an earnest expression staring thoughtfully back at him.

"We dated for two years, and he was practically living with me. I had never said I love you to anyone before-"

"No one?" Castiel interrupted softly.

Dean shook his head. "Not since my mom. It always seemed like such a commitment. Like it was verbal consent to hand someone the power to hurt you, you know? So, it… it wasn't something I ever said out loud. But with Leo, I thought that I might be ready," Dean scratched the back of his neck and let out a bitter laugh. "I'm glad I kept my mouth shut, because I came home sick early from work one night, and found him fucking some guy he picked up at a bar downtown. He didn't even try to hide it by going to the next town over."

Dean heard Castiel gasp, but still didn't look up, not wanting to see pity in his bright blue eyes.

"You think he wanted to get caught?"

Dean shrugged his shoulder, jerkily. 

"Maybe? He said sorry, but he didn't ask for my forgiveness. Just said that as much as he cared about me, he needed to weigh his options."

"Oh, Dean," Castiel sighed, and Dean felt his stomach twist.

"Don't pity me, Cas, that's not why I told you."

"I don't pity you, Dean, but my heart still hurts for you. That's an awful experience to have gone through."

Dean conceded with a nod, knowing that they would have to get a move on soon, but before he could stand up, Castiel grabbed his wrist.

"Okay, so I'm going to say something, and I don't want you to get mad. Because I _do_ understand. I understand why you're worried. You had a bad experience that you have no wish to repeat. And I see where you could think that there's a parallel between me and this Leo. You're the first man I ever kissed, the first person I have ever felt brave enough to say that I want," Castiel spoke with such assuredness, and Dean admired his ability to speak his mind with no filter. 

"But here's the thing," Castiel said, voice sharper now. "I'm not Leo. I'm not looking for a relationship because you're hot and I want to have sex and experiment. Sleeping around with different men, keeping my' options open' "Castiel air quoted and Dean couldn't help the soft bubble of laughter that escaped, "has no appeal for me. I'm not looking for meaningless, Dean. I'm not looking to tick off a checklist of who gives a better blowjob, or who gives me the best orgasm. I'm not worried that being with one person means I am somehow missing out on someone else's bedroom skills," There was frustration in Cas' gravelly voice as he tried to make his point.

"I want what I see between Cesar and Jesse, something enduring and lasting. Sex is just a byproduct. I am sure, with the right partner, a person willing to teach and explore with me? I won't want anything else if I can have that," _with you-_ it was left unspoken, and Dean felt giddy at the implication. "There are no guarantees in life, Dean, we both know that. But it doesn't mean that we close ourselves off. You know that expression, you can't miss what you never had?"

Dean frowned, puzzled at where this was going. "Yeah?"

"I hate it. Because it's not true, I haven't experienced being in a relationship made of true love and devotion and intimate need," Castiel's eyes seemed to blaze at him, setting warm fires under his skin, "But I can picture it with you, Dean, and to know that we _could_ have it and never do anything about it? I would miss that. I would _miss_ what we never had, Dean. So just think about it, okay?"

Dumbfounded, Dean nodded, as Castiel left the kitchen to get changed into his clothes from yesterday. Methodically, Dean washed the frying pan and loaded the dishwasher, before going upstairs to get changed into something appropriate enough to drive Castiel home.

The ride back to Cas' apartment was quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts. When Dean pulled up in front of the cafe, Castiel quickly pressed a kiss to Dean's cheek, the lingering scent of citrus soothing and making him sigh.

"Call me if you want to do something later. I have to take some photos with Charlie on the larping grounds after church today, but after that I'm free," Castiel was looking at him in a way that told Dean he was nervous. About how he'd laid himself bare or whether or not Dean was going to turn him down or not, he couldn't be sure. Dean realized that he had been so caught up in his own feelings and insecurities in this whole situation, that Castiel was probably feeling pretty vulnerable himself. It made him feel selfish for not noticing sooner.

"How about we go out for dinner and talk some more? I'll pick you up at seven?"

The way Castiel nodded and beamed at him made Dean feel like he had just granted some big wish, and he decided that anything that made Castiel look at him like that was worth it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

They never did wind up going to dinner, much to Castiel's disappointment. Jo had called out sick rendering Dean's night off, and their date, canceled. With Dean understaffed, he didn't see the man again until the Tuesday Night Doubles league. They didn't have much time to talk, but they did make plans to go with Charlie and Meg to a popular LGBTQ club that had opened up in Falmouth that weekend.

Castiel did frequent the Lighthouse quite a bit. Dean had given him a key, telling him he had an all-access pass while he took all of the photos he wanted. Cas had happily taken advantage of it, making sure to get some pictures from the inside, from different vantage points on the spiral staircase. He was eager to get the photos developed; there were a few he knew would look amazing in black and white.

Saturday finally came, and at lunchtime, Castiel wound up having a skype conversation with Daphne and her new boyfriend, Inias, from inside Inias' restaurant, the White Mountain Tavern. He looked a little envious as the pair shared a platter of loaded nachos.

"So, let me get this straight. You had dinner, you drank wine, you _kissed,_ and you slept over… but you're not dating?" The skepticism in his friend's voice was warranted, and he avoided her question by taking a large bite of his PB&J.

"We're just hanging out," Castiel said, finally, after washing his mouthful of peanut butter down with a swig of milk. 

"And you are supposed to go out tonight?" Daphne continued, as Cas adjusted the screen of the laptop on the coffee table

"As friends," Castiel stressed, "It's a group thing."

Inias rolled his eyes. "Yeah, with another couple. Here we call that a double date," Inias said, and Daphne snorted inelegantly.

Castiel groaned in frustration and braced his hands on his knees as he spoke with his friends. "Look. If it makes Dean feel better to call us friends right now, then right now we're just friends," he said pointedly, taking another vicious bite of his sandwich. For a moment, Daphne just stared at him stoically.

Then Inias, "Dude, just admit you're dating him."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm dating him," he gave in. "He just doesn't know we're dating." Castiel took another gulp. "It's fine. He'll get there."

Daphne grinned at him, leaning into Inias, who wore a satisfied smirk. Castiel was so happy for his friend. Inias had been a friend of theirs as children, but his father's business had taken them across the country when they were just teenagers. After years as a cop in L.A., Inias had moved back to his hometown, and reconnected with Daphne.

"You seem confident," she said, and he supposed it was true.

Maybe not as much as he showed on the outside, but Castiel was cautiously optimistic. "I know what I want, and I know that he wants it too," he said, firmly and the pair broke out into bright smiles.

They ended their conversation on the promise to catch up again Sunday afternoon with details on tonight's excursion.

* * *

Castiel had hours before Dean was supposed to pick him up. Cas made his way downstairs to the cafe. He helped himself to an iced spiced chai tea but paid for a bag of cannabis-infused gummi bears. A glance around the cafe showed a handful of customers; it was a gorgeous day in late June, which found much of the clientele out at the beach enjoying the sunshine. 

In the corner by the window sat Sheriff Mill's daughter Claire and her girlfriend Kaia, leaning into each other, blond and black hair tangling together in beautiful contrast. He itched to take a picture, and his fingers twitched on the camera in his pocket, but Castiel resisted. It seemed wrong to take a photo of an intimate moment without permission. Instead, he went in back and helped Gabriel with organizing the large overstock of teas, cups, and take-out containers so there would still be room to walk in the back. It was only a few days until the fourth of July and Angel's Bend, and he'd been warned, would be overrun with tourists. The afternoon passed fairly quickly, and soon it was time for Castiel to get ready for Dean to pick him up.

Castiel was a bit of a wreck. He'd gone through his closet, trying to find anything that resembled dance clubwear, before he gave up, settling on his usual style: He laid out an outfit-a white collared short-sleeved henley with a navy patterned vest. Cas paired it with dark-wash jeans and a pair of chocolate oxfords. 

During a quick shower, Castiel jerked himself off roughly, trying to relieve some of the tension. He was so eager to spend the evening with Dean, just the thought of being near him, his scent; bonfires and sea salt, had him thickening in his hand, and he came on a sharp cry as he envisioned tasting Dean's skin. Castiel scrubbed himself clean, using the tangerine and grapefruit body wash Dean seemed to enjoy on him. 

When he got out, he dried vigorously and got dressed, before trying to tame his dark hair and coming away not looking too bad, if he didn't say so himself. He pulled on his trenchcoat, knowing that Dean would roll his eyes fondly, as they had both agreed to disagree about Cas' taste in outerwear.

Dean was waiting for him in the cafe, looking as delectable as ever in a pair of black jeans and a short-sleeved maroon tee-shirt. A khaki green flannel was tied around his waist, and black combat boots completed the look. Castiel didn't hide his lustful gaze as he drank Dean in, enjoying the flush that climbed his freckled cheeks and the shy pride in his moss-green eyes.

Castiel and Dean ignored the catcalls as they finally stopped their staring contest long enough to step outside. They walked around back to where Dean had parked his car, and Castiel couldn't help but think back on his earlier conversation with Inias and Daphne when Dean held open the door of the Impala for him. Castiel waited until they were both settled, engine purring, and Dean's eyes focused on the road as his hand drummed on his thigh along to the music, to take Dean's fingers and lace them with his own.

Castiel held his breath, not relaxing until Dean squeezed his fingers back, and twined them even tighter. They spent the whole ride like that, driving in the twilight, with the radio playing softly between them in the charged air. He was a little nervous but also excited for this night out with Dean.

When they pulled up to the club, Castiel's giddiness was temporarily eclipsed by confusion. 

" _The White Swallow_? Is that a local bird?" he stared at the nondescript brick building with its simple white lettering, then back at Dean, who was shaking with silent laughter.

"What?" Castiel asked, and Dean just shook his head.

"Nothing. Just...," Dean shook his head again and gripped Cas' shoulder. "Never change, okay?"

Castiel's mouth kicked up in a half-smile. He wasn't sure what he'd said that had warranted such a reaction, but he promised to stay the same anyway.

They passed a bouncer on the way in, pushing through double doors. Nearly half of the left-side wall was claimed by a long black bar, and the floor was an industrial grey carpet that stopped once it met the hardwood dance floors. A stage housed a DJ, and the pulsing music and strobe lights were honestly a little much. Castiel was surprised that Dean seemed to take it all in stride, bobbing his head to the repetitive _unce unce unce_ pumping out of the speakers. 

"Doesn't this go against your classic rock only rule," he had to raise his voice, even though he was practically shouting in Dean's ear.

"Yeah, but the people watching makes up for it," Dean grinned at him, and Castiel scanned the crowd as they made their way to a high-topped table, sitting side by side in the tall chairs. Castiel tugged at the collar of his shirt, debating on whether or not he should have gone without the vest. 

"Should I not be dressing like this now?" Castiel couldn't help the question as he looked around the club from his seat. The crowd was eclectic, that was for sure—business suits, leather and lace, men and women alike in crop tops and skin-tight jeans. A particularly flashy man gyrated on the dance floor in assless chaps and a see-through shirt.

"What do you mean, like now that you're gay? "Dean asked with a laugh.

Castiel shrugged, not answering, because yeah. Kinda. 

"Do you _want_ to dress like that?"

Castiel could see Dean bite back his smile as Cas studiously surveyed the room, expression serious.

"It's a lot of mesh," he said finally, and Dean let out a peal of laughter, and Castiel wished he could always make Dean sound so delighted.

"Don't let him fool you, Cas," came Charlie's voice from his left. Castiel hadn't even seen her and Meg arrive. "He may dress like a lumberjack now-" Dean let out a yelp of offense," but I was there through Dean's punk phase. I even have pictures."

"Don't you dare!" Dean shot his finger at her in warning, but Charlie only laughed.

"You shoulda seen him, Cas. Skinny jeans, a faux hawk. Made us call him Priestley," Meg added, and Castiel couldn't help but snort at that.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," Dean said to Castiel with mock sternness.

Castiel held his hands up, affecting the picture of innocence.

"Uh-uh, blue-eyes, I know when someone is taking a mental picture."

Castiel merely grinned over his sip of beer.

Dean glared mutinously at Charlie and Meg. "I hate you both."

"Aw, Priestley, don't be like that," Castiel teased, and Charlie choked on her daiquiri. 

"Seriously, Cas. There is no wrong way to be gay. Your personal style doesn't have to change just because you realized you like boys, silly." Charlie said kindly.

"She's right, Cas. 'Sides, you rock the casual professor look," Dean said, and Castiel had the urge to kiss him senseless.

A waitress came by to take their order. She informed them she would be on until ten, but once the band came on, they would need to go to the bar. He could feel eyes on him, and realized that there were a decent amount of people checking him out. It felt odd, but also flattering. Castiel had never been the object of such public admiration before. Dean, he noticed, also garnered quite a bit of attention, but only seemed to be watching Cas.

When Meg and Charlie went out on to the dance floor, Dean nudged him with his shoulder. 

"See anyone worth talking to?" Dean gestured around, "that guy over there hasn't taken his eyes off you since we sat down," he nodded towards a dark-haired man leaning against a column at the edge of the dance floor. It took him a minute, but Castiel realized that Dean was _actually_ trying to be his wingman.

Castiel tossed back the rest of his whiskey and looked Dean in the eyes. They gleamed in the dim light, and Castiel raised his brow.

"Yes," Castiel said and he knew he didn't imagine Dean's disappointment.

"But I don't want to talk. I want to dance," Cas continued, sliding from his chair, and holding out his hand. For a moment, Dean just peered at him, befuddled, and Castiel rolled his eyes.

"With _you_ , Dean," Castiel said exasperatedly. "I want to dance with _you,"_ the words seemed to penetrate because suddenly, Dean was smiling his charming smile and making Cas' stomach do somersaults.

They lost track of time on the dance floor. It was a heady experience, being pressed close to Dean. Castiel's clothes were damp with perspiration as he leaned back against him, head lolling back on his shoulder, and Cas' hips did a slow roll, guided by Dean's hand. He could feel Dean's breath panting harsh against his neck and arched into it, begging without words for his hot mouth to glide along his skin. When he did, Castiel groaned, voice drowned out by the music. His whole body felt like a livewire, each press of Dean's fingers or ghost of his breath, sending shivers over his body.

They didn't kiss; instead, they teased each other with undulating hips and the slide of hands down bare arms as they danced. If it was a precursor to what was to come, Castiel wondered that he might implode. When Dean's fingers settled on Castiel's hips and tugged him back against the now prominent bulge in his jeans, he couldn't take it anymore. Castiel spun in Dean's arms, fingers coming up to fist in his spiky hair as he took Dean's mouth in a desperate kiss. His gasp of surprise was all the invitation Castiel needed to dip his tongue inside of Dean's delectable mouth. 

Watching two men grind against each other in a porno did not prepare him for the feeling of Dean's hard body against his own. Castiel crowded into Dean's space, pushing him against the wall on the dark corner of the dance floor. Dean's leg wedged between his own, and Cas couldn't have stopped his hip movements if he tried.

"Dean," Castiel gasped against his lips. "Dean, I need...I need more," he tipped his head back as Dean trailed open-mouthed kisses down his throat, nipping at Cas' Adam's apple. He barely registered anyone around him anymore; there was only the vibration of the music and Dean.

Castiel was hard in his pants, and every thrust of his' hips had his clothed-cock rubbing against Dean's jean-clad thigh deliciously.

"Cas… Cas, not here," Dean practically moaned the words.

"Yes, here," Castiel replied, dipping forward to suck at the skin of Dean's jaw.

"You deserve, _oh, fuck_ , you deserve more than a bathroom hook-up," Dean managed to say, but it only made Castiel chuckle darkly. _The bathroom_ , _good idea_ , Cas thought as he pulled back enough to scan the room, pleased when he saw how close they were to the short hall housing the restrooms.

Castiel smoothed his hands over Dean's ass and squeezed. The effect had the man half laughing and half groaning.

"Dean, if you don't touch me, I'm going to touch myself, and I already jerked off thinking about you today," Castiel whispered in his ear hotly.

"Holy shit," was all Dean could say to that, and Castiel felt the thrill of victory when it was Dean who dragged him to the bathroom, quickly shoving him inside and barricading them in a stall. Their lips dived together again, and hands fumbled with each other's jeans, hastily pushing them down to mid-thigh. When Castiel saw Dean's thick cock, he let out a whine.

"Fuck, I want that. I want that in me," Castiel growled, ignoring his own straining erection to get his hands on Dean's. When Castiel stroked his fingers along the hard, leaking flesh, Dean's head fell back against the door with a thunk.

"Next time," Dean panted. "Next time, when we have a bed," and Castiel's response was lost when Dean's calloused fingers gripped his dick and tugged.

"Oh my God," Castiel didn't even recognize the high pitched tone of his own voice. He'd never felt anything like this, Dean's steady hand was playing him like a fiddle, and it was intoxicating. Dean's hand was dry, but he was dripping so copiously, it was the perfect friction. When he had tried this with Daphne, it had been a disaster, her grip too light and hesitant, and Cas' lack of desire, making it an impossibly awkward endeavor. But now, with Dean's hands on him, it was perfection. Dean's breath was hot against his skin, and his green and gold eyes wide with desperate need. Castiel gripped Dean's shoulder with his free hand, clinging to Dean as his sun, smoke, and salt scent surrounded him like a blanket; Cas could barely breathe. He tried to keep up, stripping Dean's cock with enthusiasm, but Dean's fingers on his cock were distracting. Dean seemed to sense that Cas was overwhelmed, and Castiel suddenly felt Dean's hand slide over his own, guiding him to gather both of their straining members. Fingers laced together and slick with precome, Dean guided the movement of their hands.

It was fast and dirty, and deep grunts of pleasure escaped Castiel's lips, with no hope of being quiet. Dean seemed just as wrecked as he was, as soft gasps fell from his open mouth. Castiel could feel his orgasm building fast, his whole body quaking against Dean's.

"Fuck! Fuck, I- Dean _hngh I'm coming,"_ Dean swallowed Castiel's cry as he erupted, dick pulsing thick ropes of come over their hands. Dean used the added slickness, jerking them both impossibly faster, milking Cas' orgasm and triggering his own. Castiel's eyes drifted down and groaned at the erotic sight he was witnessing. White jizz spurted from Dean's slit, coating their cockheads and fingers, making a gorgeous mess that, even though spent, made his dick twitch. 

Dean's sweaty brow pressed against his own as they stood in the stall, hands still wrapped around their dripping cocks, as they fought for breath.

"Wow," was what Castiel finally said when his voice returned, and Dean chuckled. 

"So, I uh, I guess I better stop pretending we're not dating, huh?" Dean asked, breathlessly.

Castiel huffed out a laugh. "If you ever want to do this again," he teased, before sobering up a little bit. "It was okay for you, wasn't it?" Cas asked nervously, and Dean gaped at him.

"Are you kidding? It was perfect. You're perfect, Cas," Dean pressed a lingering kiss to Cas' mouth, lips dry and clinging, before pulling back. "We gotta clean up," Dean awkwardly tugged his pants up one-handed, leaving them undone for now, and Castiel followed suit.

They traded ridiculously shy grins, considering what they had just done, in the mirror as they quickly washed and finished doing up their pants. There was no way that their self-satisfied grins didn't show what they had spent the last little while doing.

"Charlie and Meg are going to know, aren't they?" Castiel asked, and Dean chuckled before leaning in for one last kiss.

"Yep," Castiel appreciated that Dean didn't try and placate him. "Come on, let's get out of here. Wanna go back to my place and watch a movie?" Though it was asked casually, Castiel knew what a big deal this was for Dean, so he didn't waste any time in answering in the affirmative.

"You want to cuddle, don't you?"

"Shut up. No, I don't."

"You so do." Castiel teased, delighted. 

"Whatever. Boyfriends cuddle, you know," Dean said, lightly and Castiel beamed.

"I'd love nothing more, let's go."

  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Castiel reclined back on his towel, braced on his forearms under the hot August sun. His ankles were crossed as he relaxed, eyes closed behind a pair of Walmart sunglasses. Castiel’s camera sat protected inside of his backpack, along with his water bottle and a copy of _Point Pleasant_ by Jen Archer Wood that he had borrowed from Dean. 

Cas had spent most of the morning at the beach. He’d left Dean’s house early to join Sam and Rowena in Sunrise yoga, something they had tried to no avail to get Dean to participate in. Most recently, during dinner at _Tarot_ the night before.

_“No thanks, Sammy,” Dean said as he passed the deck back to Rowena. “Bacon cheeseburgers and Netflix are my inner peace.”_

_“Why are you with my brother again?” Sam asked Castiel in a pained voice, and Dean flipped him off._

_“Because they are soulmates,” Rowena piped up, dreamily holding up The Lovers card, and winking at Castiel and Dean, who were indulging the red-head by letting her do a couples’ reading on them._

It was a romanticized term, of course, but it had still made him warm inside to think about it. Dean as well, if his blush had been anything to go by.

Cas was currently waiting for Sam and Rowena to return to the beach with their dog, Bones. They had left him at home during Yoga, too afraid he’d disrupt the group, and Castiel promised to wait as they wanted some pictures of their puppy playing in the water. Afterward, he was going to help out at the cafe for a few hours before bowling league, followed by a late-night picnic under the stars with Dean.

Castiel had spent a lot of time with Dean and his family throughout the summer. Barbecues, beach parties, and poker games were just a few of the activities they had participated in. He’d had taken amazing pictures of the Fourth of July fireworks display from the top of the lighthouse, which had wound up in the paper. And while the job of freelance photographer for the Angel’s Bend Community Newspaper had been a thrill to accept, it still didn’t top the way it felt to kiss Dean beneath the stars, under the shower of colorful light bursts. 

They were taking it slow, per Dean’s unspoken request. Castiel was okay with that, though he couldn’t deny being eager to take the next step, sexually. Not that they hadn’t been intimate. After their clandestine bathroom adventure, there was no putting the genie back in the bottle. Not when Castiel knew what Dean looked like when he came, or the way his hands felt on Cas’ body. No, neither one of them was willing to give that up. 

But there had been no penetration, and not because Castiel hadn’t broached the subject. Castiel had been quite vocal about his desire to explore that element of copulation, and Dean seemed receptive- _ish_. He kept insisting that they should take their time, that he wanted Castiel to be sure, but Cas was pretty confident that it was Dean’s insecurities that were holding them back in that department. He suspected that Dean was just waiting for Castiel to wash his hands and say he’s had enough. Dean had teased that anticipation was part of the fun, but Castiel believed he was using it as an excuse. Almost like once this final threshold of physical intimacy was crossed, Cas would be on his merry way, as if Dean, at that point, would have run out of things to show him. Whatever his reasons, Cas wasn’t going to push; he would happily worship and be worshipped by Dean’s hands and mouth until he was ready to trust that Castiel wasn’t going anywhere, no matter how much further they went sexually. 

Cas, having lost his drive to read, placed the water bottle wrapper he’d been using as a bookmark in between the pages and laid it back down on his towel. Castiel had asked Sam to bring some toys, a frisbee or a ball, to get some interactive shots of him and Rowena with Bones, and he hoped they came back soon. The sun was making him entirely too sleepy. He blamed Dean and the Doctor Sexy marathon he had been coerced into watching the night before. And by coerced, he meant rewarded with a stellar blowjob that had curled his toes so hard they ached.

Castiel sifted his hands through the hot sand, fingers trailing through the grains, mindlessly making patterns, before deciding it was better to stand up and shake off his drowsiness. Castiel interlaced his fingers and pushed upward and stretched. He immediately let out an _oomph_ sound when a football collided with his stomach.

“Oh, Jesus, man, I’m sorry!” Castiel straightened and pushed up his glasses to sit on his head as a man about his height jogged over, an apologetic look on his face. Castiel saw him wave off his companion as he made the last few steps to him.

“Are you okay?” the man asked, bending down to retrieve the football.

“I’m quite alright, thank you.”

Castiel observed the man as he pushed back his bangs in what Cas was sure he thought was a boyish gesture. Cas wondered if that actually worked on anyone?

“My buddy has horrible aim,” the man said before he held out his hand. “Name’s L.J.”

Castiel didn’t imagine the way L.J.’s hand lingered in his grasp, and Cas was quick to extract it. He didn’t miss the full-body perusal, that had him taking a step back, either.

“Castiel,” he introduced himself politely and scanned the beach again for any sign of Sam and Rowena.

“Well, Castiel,” L.J. drawled out his name with a slow smile. “Could I buy you a drink to say sorry?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Castiel said, and the man poked out his lip in an unattractive pout.

“I insist,” he implored with a wink. “The least I can do is get to know the gorgeous man my friend almost knocked out.” 

Castiel knew it was meant as a compliment, but for some reason, the words made him feel annoyed.

“A bit of an exaggeration,” Castiel remarked dryly. “Anyhow, as flattered as I am, the only person I let buy me drinks is my boyfriend,” Castiel kept his tone cool and direct, and L.J. lifted his hands in the _backing off_ gesture.

“Fair enough, fair enough. I haven’t been here in years, lots of new faces in these parts.”

When it became apparent that L.J. had no plans to move on, Castiel made a show of gathering his things together. He wrapped his book and water bottle in his towel and clutched them under one arm and hitched his backpack over his shoulder. He let out an audible sigh of relief when he saw Sam and Rowena strolling down the beach, Bones running ahead of them, darting in and out of the surf.

Castiel raised his hand in greeting, then turned back to L.J., and noticed he had an odd expression on his face, almost fearful. 

“Those are my friends, you’ll have to excuse me,” Castiel said, and this time there was no argument.

“Sure, no problem. See you around, Castiel.”

Castiel didn’t bother to watch L.J. walk away; instead, he continued towards Sam and Rowena, shaking off the uncomfortable encounter and smiling at the excitement that Bones was exhibiting while playing in the water.

“Hello there, angel,” Rowena said in her lilting voice, accepting the kiss he pressed to her cheek with a smile.

“Hey, Cas, sorry that took so long. _Someone_ had to change their outfit three times,” Sam said, with an affectionately exasperated look at Rowena.

“ _Och_ , Samuel! When do I ever not look my best when I’m being photographed?” she gave a twirl, and her hunter green summer dress swirled around her. “I think I look quite fetching.”

“Quite,” Castiel said gravely, hiding his amusement behind a cough.

“Hey, Cas, who was that you were talking to?” Sam asked curiously. “He looked a little familiar.”

Castiel shrugged. “His name was L.J. His friend accidentally hit me with a football, and he tried to remedy the situation by asking me out for a drink.”

Sam’s expressive eyes widened. “What did you say?”

Castiel rolled his eyes so hard that they hurt. “Don’t ask stupid questions,” he bit out, scornfully.

“Uh-oh, dearie. Castiel looks as though he wants to smite you,” Rowena said teasingly, as she tossed the frisbee they had brought in Bones’ direction.

“I’m sorry, Cas, I guess I’m just a little protective of Dean.”

At the contrite sound of Sam’s voice, Castiel softened.

“I know, Sam, and I can appreciate that. But I have no intention of hurting your brother,” Castiel leveled Sam with his steady gaze. “Not for the world.”

When Sam nodded sheepishly, Castiel grinned. “Alright. Let’s get this family photoshoot on the road, shall we?”

* * *

Garth Fitzgerald bowled a 300 that night. 

Castiel couldn’t believe how charged the air was when the gangly man stood up in the tenth frame, three boxes away from ten pin glory. He was set, a fifteen pound _Storm_ gleaming in his hand. It was silent, quieter than a tennis match, not a sniff, cough, or sneeze could be heard. Just the hum of the pinsetters and the rumble of the ball as Garth released a perfect straight-shot entering at the three-pin, exploding in a cacophony of sound. 

There was no cheering, Castiel observed, no clapping, and a subtle shake of the head from Charlie had told him not to ask why out loud. It was honestly making him twitchy. Castiel imagined if it were him in this position, he’d want the noise around him, not the pressure of all those eyes on his back. Cas watched as Garth’s ball came up from the return and he picked it up. His bony wrist bobbed as he used a rag to remove the excess oil. 

His second strike was a mirror of his first.

Castiel found himself holding his breath and worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. A glance at Dean showed the man already gazing at Cas with a soft look in his eyes that almost had him missing the last shot. 

_Crash_

“Brooklyn!” Garth yelled as everyone cheered.

“You’re from Tennessee, Fitzgerald,” Bobby yelled back but gave him a grudging smile and a firm handshake.

“What’s a Brooklyn?” Castiel asked as he and Charlie waited their turn to congratulate Garth. He leaned back when he felt strong arms slide around his waist from behind, and felt Dean brush a kiss on the top of his head.

“It’s just a bowling term,” Charlie said. “Just means that the ball crossed the one-three pocket.”

“Like this,” Dean said, curving his hand in front of him. “Like crossing the bridge from Brooklyn to Manhattan.”

Castiel angled his head back; brow arched in a haughty way that let Dean know that that explanation wasn’t nearly informative enough. He was denied elaboration, however, as they had now reached Garth. 

Dean, Charlie, and Castiel shook hands- well, _attempted_ to shake hands- instead, they were engulfed in Garth’s skinny arms as he made them promise to meet everyone at The Roadhouse after the league for a drink. Castiel didn’t have the heart to say no, and he could tell neither did Dean. They had a campout on the lighthouse’s observation balcony planned, but an hour later wouldn’t do them any harm.

Or so he thought.

* * *

  
  
It was a cheerful crowd that greeted them when Dean and Castiel joined the Holy Rollers at the Roadhouse that night. They were the last to show, Castiel having insisted on staying with Dean at the alley to help him close up, so they could drive over together.

Castiel had been shocked to see that pastor Chuck had a band. They were quite good, and he found himself tapping out a beat on the scarred wood of the table he, Dean, and Charlie were sitting at. Aside from the stage lights, it was dim in the bar and grille, and the sound of the music and the hum of the regulars singing along made him smile. 

Dean had bought Garth a drink, and Castiel had been grateful that Bess was not imbibing, seeing as how two bottles of _Thigh Slapper_ _Ale_ was all it took to have Garth stumbling around the dance floor, bobbing his head like a Pez dispenser popping out candy. 

Castiel settled back against Dean in the booth they were in, enjoying the heat of his body pressed against Cas’ back. Every few minutes or so, Dean would ghost a kiss down the side of Castiel’s neck, making him sigh and shiver, prompting Cas to keep his head tilted in open invitation. His hand lightly massaged Dean’s thigh as he again made a pass down the column of Castiel’s neck with his plush lips.

When Charlie went up to the bar to get them another round of drinks, Sam and Rowena joined their table. Sam was more than a little tipsy himself, and Rowena was shaking her head at him fondly.

“Don’t you have work in the morning, there, lawyer boy?” Dean asked teasingly, and Castiel chuckled.

“I’ll be fine, “Sam said, taking a hefty sip of his rum and coke, and Dean snorted in amusement.

“Sam, you’re holding your liquor about as well as Garth tonight,” Dean said with a laugh, and Rowena nodded in agreement.

“He did shots with Fergus earlier,” Rowena explained, and Dean’s head fell back as he laughed.

“Hey,” Sam said, with wounded, puppy dog eyes, “you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m always on your side, Samuel,” Rowena replied, amusement lacing her tone. 

“She just doesn’t want to have to deal with your hungover sasquatch ass in the morning,” Dean smirked.

“Aw, come on,” Charlie said, sliding back into the booth next to Sam. “That’s future Sam’s problem. Fuck that guy.”

Castiel barked out a laugh as the two of them high-fived, sparing a sympathetic look at Rowena, who would no doubt be the one dealing with a regretful Sam tomorrow.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam turned his blurry hazel eyes towards him, and Castiel grinned.

“Hey, Sam,” Castiel mimicked and felt Dean laugh into the nape of his neck.

“Did you tell Dean about that dude that asked you out today?” Sam asked the question with the guileless innocence of a child, and it was the only thing that saved him from Cas’ wrath as he felt Dean stiffen behind him.

“Why no, Sam, I didn’t,” he gritted out, “Thanks so much for bringing it up.”

Dean cleared his throat, and Castiel angled his head back to find moss green eyes lit with gold, searching his own. 

“When was this?” Dean asked quietly, and Castiel fought the urge to fidget, well aware of everyone’s eyes on them.

“Today, after Yoga. I was waiting for Sam and Rowena to come back to the beach with Bones. Some guy was playing football on the beach, and I got hit with it. I was fine,” Castiel rushed to say, seeing the question form on Dean’s lips. “He asked if I was okay and if he could take me out for a drink.”

“What was his name?”

Castiel cocked his head, trying to remember. 

“ _L_ something? L.J., I think,” he said, reasonably certain that was what the man had said.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean asked, and Castiel _hated_ that his tone was so guarded.

“Because I said no,” Castiel said simply. “I didn’t think it mattered. I honestly forgot all about it until _Captain Morgan_ over here brought it up,” Cas was gratified when a huff of laughter escaped Dean’s lips. Dean leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Castiel’s and sighed.

“I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?” Dean asked softly, eyes full of deprecation.

“Only a little,” Castiel murmured, before bringing their lips together in a tender kiss. Dean changed the angle, taking it deeper, and Castiel turned to face him better. Cas looped his arm around Dean’s neck, fingers tangling in his dark honey hair. The band played something soft and melancholy as their companions faded into the background, and Castiel could only focus on Dean. The feeling of his calloused fingers cradling Cas’ face, the whisper of his thumbs brushing against Cas’ stubbled cheeks; the roll of his talented tongue rich with the flavor of the hard pear cider they had been drinking.

“Hey, get a room,” Sam’s loud voice didn’t even filter in until he felt a booted foot kick at him under the table, although Dean’s abrupt yelp of pain against his lips told Castiel that he had received the brunt of it.

“What the hell, bitch?” When Sam only giggled drunkenly, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Alright, dearest, it’s time we get you home. Dean, would you mind?” Rowena said, slipping out of the booth to standing.

“What? You can’t carry the moose out yourself?” Dean teased, kissing Castiel, a quick one this time, before sliding out of the booth. “I’m gonna help the Sammy to the car, blue eyes, be right back.”

“Do you need help?” Castiel asked as Dean slipped his arm around his staggering brother’s waist, Rowena shaking her head at her fiance fondly, keys in her hand.

“Nah, we’re good. You can grab us two more before we head out, though.”

“G’night, Charlie, I love you,” Sam drawled, and Charlie snorted. 

“I love you, too, Sam,” Charlie said stoically though her eyes were bright with mirth.

“Night, Cas! I love you, too, just not as much as De-”

“Okay, little brother, time to go,” Dean said, ushering Sam out to the sound of Charlie and Rowena snickering.

Castiel could feel his cheeks heating up as Charlie smirked at him.

When ten minutes had passed since Charlie and Castiel had gone up to the bar for more drinks, Castiel decided to go looking for Dean. He hoped there hadn’t been any problems getting Sam into the car. 

The air was balmy when he stepped outside, the soft breeze caressing his skin as he stepped out into the parking lot. A quick scan showed him Dean having an agitated conversation with someone by the Impala. Castiel strode closer and was shocked to see a familiar face.

“-to be kidding me,” Dean was saying. “No. Not a chance in hell.”

_What were they arguing about?_

“Come on, Dean, I was young and stupid. Man, I came back here for you!”

A feeling of dread curled in Castiel’s stomach as he neared the pair.

“I’m sure,” Dean scoffed. “Look, I don’t know what makes you think that I’ve been sitting here pining after you, but I haven’t. Contrary to your Texas-sized ego, you are not God’s gift. I’m with someone, and you don’t hold a candle to him. You don’t even light the match.”

They were so caught up in their tense discussion that they didn’t even hear Castiel approach until he was right next to Dean. Like a gravitational pull, his hand came to rest on the small of Dean’s back, and he leaned into his hard body, creating a united front.

“L.J.? What are you doing here? What do you want with Dean?” Castiel could hear the possessive bent to his voice, but was helpless to stop it.

Dean burst into laughter. “L.J.? That’s what you’re going by now?”

L.J. shrugged. “Just trying it out. Hey there, Castiel.”

Castiel didn’t even spare him a glance, and only looked at Dean, “What’s going on? How do you two know each other?” he asked, although he already had a sinking feeling that he knew.

“Cas, this is my ex,” Dean said, confirming what Castiel had already suspected.

Castiel’s eyes whipped to L.J.’s. “You’re Leo?” 

He actually had the nerve to hold out his hand. “Leo Joseph Webb. A pleasure to see you again,” That cocky smile Cas remembered from earlier in the day graced Leo’s face.

There was nothing he could do, Castiel’s body reacted instinctively. On an inhale, he reared back, and his fist shot out, knuckles connecting with bone with a sickening crack. 

Cas flexed his hand, knowing he was going to feel that later.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, guys. Thanks for hanging with me, and I hope you enjoy it:)  
> Thanks to my teapot/parabatai Bek, as always, for being with me on this, chapter by chapter. Love you!

Dean staggered back as the briny breeze seemed to knock Sam back a step. When he tripped over a pothole, Sam accidentally stepped on Dean’s baby toe.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean hissed.

“Sorry,” Sam said, with a snort of laughter.

“Why the hell did you have to drink so many shots with Crowley,” Dean grumbled as Rowena moved forward to open the passenger side of her and Sam’s jeep.

“Him and Hannah are havin’ a baby,” Sam slurred. “They were cel-eb-ra-tory shots,” he sounded out the word carefully, and Rowena snickered.

“More like _I’m scared shitless of babies_ shots,” She huffed, from behind him as Dean reached across Sam when his inebriated brother tried and failed epically to buckle his seatbelt.

Dean laughed. He’d have to go and congratulate the man once he got back inside to Cas. Just thinking about the alluring man, with his endearing half-smile and deep denim eyes that seemed to see right through him, had Dean’s heart racing. 

“You _looove_ him,” Sam punctuated his point by jabbing a blunt finger into Dean’s chest. Dean flushed, and he appreciated it when a sidelong glance at Rowena showed her discreetly going around to the driver’s side. “S’okay,” Sam continued, “He loves you too. Practically growled at me today.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he looked over in question at what could have caused such a response from Castiel, and Rowena rolled her eyes.

“When we saw your sweetheart,” Rowena explained, “Sam asked about the man he was talking to. Your brother offended Castiel by asking him if he had said yes to the drink invitation. He was adamant in his denial. “

Dean could just picture Castiel’s irritated scowl, and warmth filled him at the thought of him being aggravated on his behalf.

“He called me stupid,” Sam whined, and a bubble of laughter escaped from Dean’s lips.

“He said don’t ask stupid questions,” Rowena corrected him, and Dean looked at his brother fondly.

“Thanks for looking out for me, bitch.”

“Welcome, jerk.”

Dean waved them off, watching them pull out of the parking lot, then spun on his heel to head back inside to the Roadhouse. Dean drew up short when he saw a familiar figure leaning against his Baby.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered, striding forward, “Well, look what low-tide washed up,” Dean said acidly. 

“Hey, Dean,” a voice with an almost southern twang came out of a man with longish brown hair and light blue eyes. He was fairly tall, with a compact body and a devilish smile. “I see you’re charming as ever.”

“Leo,” Dean answered cooly, “What brings you back to town?”

“Just some business. Looking at a few properties. I have a little bar called Swayze’s out in Texhoma, and I’ve been thinking of expanding to new locations.”

“Here? Oklahoma is pretty far away, how would you split your time?” 

“I have a very reliable staff,” Leo answered, taking a step forward into Dean space.

Dean stepped back. “Any particular reason you’re waiting outside of my car?”

“Well, you have to know you're another big part of why I am here,” Leo said it as though it should have been obvious, "I've missed you," Leo said, and Dean laughed so hard he had to bend at the knees.

“And what? You thought I’d just be here, available for you?” 

“Come on, Dean, don’t hold a grudge. I didn’t know what I was giving up,” there was a time when that pleading tone may have made Dean pause, but not now. “I think we could have something real and solid.”

Dean could only glare at him, unimpressed. “You have got to be kidding me,” Dean deadpanned. “No. Not a chance in hell.”

“Come on, Dean, I was young and stupid. Man, I came back here for you!”

“I’m sure,” Dean scoffed. “Look, I don’t know what makes you think that I’ve been sitting here pining after you, but I haven’t. Contrary to your Texas-sized ego, you are not God’s gift. I’m with someone, and you don’t hold a candle to him. You don’t even light the match.”

As though speaking of Castiel had summoned him, Dean leaned in instinctually Cas' hand on his back, appreciating his strong presence beside him. He couldn’t help but wonder how much Castiel had heard.

“L.J.? What are you doing here? What do you want with Dean?” 

Dean erupted into laughter, “That’s what you’re going by now?”

Leo shrugged. “Just trying it out. Hey there, Castiel.”

Dean almost laughed. Of _course_. Leo, who came back for him- _haha_ \- was beach-guy. A glance at Castiel found him already watching Dean, blue-eyes steady, and the possessive look on his face settled something inside of Dean, making him wish they were alone and preferably naked.

“What’s going on? How do you two know each other?” Castiel asked, but Dean could tell he had all but pieced it together, head tilted, eyes narrowed suspiciously

“Cas, this is my ex,” Dean said, and he watched as Castiel’s gaze flashed to Leo’s.

“You’re Leo?” His tone was deathly calm, but Dean wasn’t fooled. He could feel the undercurrent of the storm the simple question hid.

Dean held his breath as Leo foolishly held out his hand, “Leo Joseph Webb. A pleasure to see you again.”

It happened so fast. One second Castiel is glaring at Leo like an avenging angel ready to smite, and then _crack!_

Quick and graceful, body moving like poetry, Castiel’s fist struck Leo’s face, nose erupting with blood as he was knocked to the ground. 

“What the frak!” Dean could hear Charlie cry, vaguely aware that they had drawn a crowd, but too caught up in holding his boyfriend back from further pummeling his ex.

“Jesus Christ, are you crazy?” Leo was yelling, words a little garbled from the blood. 

“You want crazy,” Castiel growled menacingly as Leo dragged himself to his feet.

“Cas,” Dean attempted to pull his boyfriend back because, despite the fact that Castiel being dominant and protective was all manner of hot, Dean would prefer not having to bail him out of jail. 

“Boys, is everything alright out here?” Jody Mills’ voice filtered through the crowd, and Dean groaned because he definitely didn’t want the sheriff involved in this mess. She wasn't a fan of Leo's by any stretch, but she _was_ a stickler for the law.

“No, it’s not,” Leo screeched, still holding a hand to his bleeding nose. “This maniac attacked me!”

Castiel broke free from Dean’s grasp to go toe to toe with Leo. “You should show me,” he rasped, deep and low, “some respect.” 

And _damn_ if that didn’t have little Dean twitching in his pants.

“Meg is going to be so mad she missed this,” Charlie said out of the corner of her mouth as she saddled up to the other side of Dean. He rolled his eyes and elbowed her to be quiet. The other patrons of the bar who had come to see what was going on quietly moved off, seeing that the fight they were hoping to bet on wasn’t going to happen. Dean had to hold back a laugh, as even Chuck looked disappointed.

“Cas, let’s just go,” Dean ran a soothing hand down his boyfriend’s strong back, feeling his muscles nearly vibrating in anger.

“No way,” Leo yelled. “I want to press charges!”

“Oh, come on, are you serious right now?” Dean whirled on Leo, “Your nose isn’t even broken, don’t be such a drama queen.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do, Mr. Webb?” Jody asked, and Dean scoffed indignantly while Castiel remained surprisingly silent.

“Absolutely,” Leo spit out and turned pleading eyes to Jody.

“Jody, please,” Dean attempted to persuade her, but Jody shook her head.

“It’s out of my hands, Dean. You can bail out Rocky over here in the morning,” Dean watched helplessly as Castiel was pulled away from Dean, and read his rights. His stomach churned as Castiel didn’t even look at him, going peacefully into the back of Jody’s cruiser.

“You’ll have to come down to the station and file a report, Mr. Webb.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Leo said, and Jody sent Dean a sympathetic smile, and he couldn’t even bring himself to acknowledge her. Charlie tucked her hand in his and squeezed it as they watched Cas and Jody drive off.

Dean shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, if you ever cared about me, I mean truly? If you ever felt even one genuine lick of remorse for what you did to me, then you wouldn’t do this.” 

He didn’t look back as he nodded goodbye to Charlie, and slipped into the driver’s seat of the Impala. As he headed to the police station, Dean cursed at the fact that the one time he could have actually used his brother’s legal expertise, he was probably about as useful as Louis Tully. This was not how he had seen the evening going. Dean thought about the double sleeping bag and chilled wine and picnic waiting for him and Castiel on the observation balcony of the lighthouse and sighed. It looked like their late-night slumber party would have to wait.

* * *

  
  
As far as holding cells went, it could have been worse, Castiel mused. He’d always pictured it, like on television; some brassed off cop stuck on night duty, glaring daggers at Castiel through the bars of his lonely cell, with a dingy bed and a toilet in the back of the room. Instead, after the initial pat-down by Jody’s wife, Deputy Donna, which was more than a little awkward, Castiel had his mugshot done, and fingers printed by an inkless digital scanner. Then, he got to meet with a nurse who, after icing his hand, wanted his full medical history.

Now Castiel found himself in a holding cell, that was actually a small room with a television playing CNN and three rows of blue plastic seats. There was even a restroom.

Through the windows, Castiel could see the other officers on duty, one of them, Jody Mills, who was currently on the phone. He could have called Gabriel, though Cas suspected he would never hear the end of it, and he also knew that Dean was more than likely on his way. Castiel’s stomach twisted at the thought, as he worried about how angry Dean was going to be.

He couldn’t explain what came over him. Just seeing that cocky smirk on Leo’s face, as if what he had done to Dean was just a big joke. Castiel could only hope that Dean wouldn’t see him as some jealous neanderthal. Cas glowered up at the TV when he saw Trump’s face filling the screen, and wondered if it would be inappropriate to ask them to change it to the Food Network.

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes of Castiel tapping his foot, impatient and nervous as to what was coming next, when Dean came striding through the station. Cas watched as the three officers working the night shift waved at him, because of course, Dean knew everyone in Angel’s Bend. It was a little bit like dating the local Hometown Hero, and Castiel couldn’t help but grin at the thought, despite his current circumstances.

Castiel saw Dean approach Jody’s desk, and she gestured for him to wait a minute, with a finger up, still on the phone. Jody jerked her head at Donna, and he was surprised to see a smiling blonde leading him over to the holding cells, holding up a key. Castiel was pretty sure he was supposed to talk to Dean through the window, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, despite how nervous he was at what Dean was going to have to say to him.

Dean held his gaze, as Donna worked the keys in the door, face betraying nothing of what he was feeling. Donna stood unobtrusively in the back as Dean made his way into the room.

Dean leaned back against the wall and crossed his ankles with his arms folded across his chest. Bottom lip caught between his teeth, Dean studied him, and Cas tried not to fidget under the scrutiny. Castiel purposefully straightened his spine and looked Dean in the eyes head-on. He wanted to say he was sorry, but the words seemed stuck in his throat. What came out was more of a croak, as Dean continued to stare at him pensively. Cas coughed, and his eyes darted to the beige industrial flooring, as he gathered his thoughts.

“So,” Dean began conversationally, “you enjoying your time in the pokey?” 

Dean’s words had Castiel lifting his gaze, brows furrowed as he tried to work out whether Dean’s tone was humorous or sarcastic; maybe both.

“Dean, I would like to apologize for my violent display. I’m sorry if I caused you any embarrassment, and I fervently hope you don’t think less of me.” The words, though formal, were heartfelt, and Castiel held his breath as he waited for a response.

Dean shook his head, the disappointment on his face making Cas’ heart sink and his shoulders fall.

Finally: “Man, prisons’ changed you.”

Castiel stared at Dean incredulously, and he heard Donna snort a small laugh from the back of the room.

“I mean, where is that badass who was all _you should show me some respect_. That guy was hot. Standing up for his man, going all sexy-alpha.”

Castiel exhaled on a breath of astonished bark laughter, “You’re an asshole.”

Dean broke away from the wall with a chuckle, and came forward to draw Castiel in; one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other slipped around Cas’ waist. Dean rested their foreheads together, looking at him fondly.

“Seriously, though, you okay? This is complete bullshit,” Dean leaned back and laced their hands. “I called Sam, because apparently even wasted, he still retains his knowledge of the law. He said with a first offense like this, you’re probably going to have to pay a fine. Judge Moseley’s on in the morning, I’ve known her my whole life. She’s hard, but fair.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Castiel murmured, breathing in Dean’s beachy scent.

Dean crowded into him, and ghosted his lips across Cas cheek, then to his lips, in a soft, lingering kiss that had Castiel’s head spinning.

“Sorry,” Dean said with a half-smile, “I just realized I hadn’t kissed you hello yet. Hello, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel didn’t know how long they stood there, chest to chest and palm to palm, but he startled when Jody’s booming voice filtered in.

“Well, Castiel, you’re sprung. Turns out, Mr. Webb had a change of heart. He’s not pressing charges. You’re free to go.”

“Really?” It wasn’t that he wasn’t glad, it was just that a part of Castiel internally scowled at the thought of owing that man anything.

“Really. You can pick up your belongings on the way out.”

“Thank you, Sherriff,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, thanks, Jodes,” Dean nodded, hand still tucked in Castiel’s.

“Go on, get out of here. And Castiel? Try not to knock out any more of Dean’s exes, okay? Save us both the paperwork.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Castiel said solemnly even as Dean snickered beside him.

By the time they left the station, the humidity had set in, and after the coolness of the police station, the night air immediately had Castiel’s skin feeling clammy. The air was thick, and the scent of gas from the Sunoco mingled with the greasy aroma of flame-broiled whoppers from the Burger King on the corner. Castiel was eager to get back to Dean’s Lighthouse, where there was always a soft, salty breeze.

“I know it’s past our midnight dinner plans, but I don’t see any reason why they have to change,” Dean said as they walked to the Impala. He stopped by the passenger side door and lifted Castiel’s sore knuckles to his lips for a gentle kiss. Dean hissed when he saw that they were bruised, then kissed them again. Castiel’s heart melted a bit at the romantic gesture.

“Neither do I.”

The ride back to Dean’s house was quiet. Something had changed, Castiel could feel it. It was in the way Dean looked at him. Little by little, since they’d begun this thing, Dean had let Castiel in, but tonight more than ever Cas felt like all of Dean’s walls were finally down; like he finally recognized that what they had, was going to last. 

“Oh,” Dean remarked as they pulled into the driveway of the keeper’s house, “You might want to text Chuck or message the Church’s Facebook page. I guarantee you there will be some go fund me link raising your bail.”

Castiel’s eyes widened in horror. “You’re kidding,” he said, opening his phone’s Facebook app and moaned in distress when he saw that, yes indeed, a fundraiser was going that already had four-hundred and seventy-five dollars in it.

“Don’t stress, the money will just go to one of the Church’s favorite charities,” Dean said with a laugh as Castiel frantically typed out a message to the congregation that he was free and no charges were pending.

“How is this town real?” Castiel asked, with a shake of his head. 

Dean jerked a shoulder as he turned off the car. “We just take care of our own, Cas, that’s all.” It was said casually, like it should have been obvious that Castiel was already an integral part of the community. Dean’s eyes gleamed in the dark, and Castiel found himself lost in the soft look he was receiving from the beautiful man.

The stillness was broken by the loud sound of someone’s stomach growling, Castiel honestly couldn’t tell whether it was him or Dean. They both erupted into laughter, baritone and bass mixing enticingly. 

“Let’s go get changed and head on up. Nothing better at 2 a.m. and than chicken salad sandwiches and Pinot Grigio,” Dean said with a wink.

They made quick work once they were inside, Castiel used the guest bathroom to take a quick but thorough shower and change into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a tee-shirt. Cas put on a pair of flip-flops and met a similarly dressed Dean in the living room. He looked Castiel up and down, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. Dean’s hand reached up, and his thumb came out to swipe against Castiel’s freshly shaven cheek.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you without your scruff,” Dean observed, then brushed his lips against Cas’ skin gently. “Hmm. This is nice, too,” Dean drew back with a playful smile, and Castiel half laughed and half groaned at his coy behavior.

Castiel decided to pay Dean back by racing him to the top of the lighthouse, laughing when they got to the door of the observation balcony, and Dean had to bend over to catch his breath.

“I would have offered to carry you,” Castiel teased, and Dean looked up from his bent position and blatantly ogled Castiel’s arms.

“I’m sure you could have done it,” Dean grinned, rising and pushing past Cas to open the door. He followed Dean around to where he had laid out a dual sleeping bag, and a hefty pile of pillows. There was also an old battery-operated radio and a cooler. The stars and the moon was bright enough to illuminate their temporary nest in a swath of white light. 

“Get Comfy, Cas,” Dean said, gesturing to the sleeping bag, and Castiel sat, cross-legged, back against the outside wall of the light room, facing the dark horizon. Lewis Capaldi crooned in the background, as the only station Dean could get in on top of the lighthouse, was a pop-rock station. Dean pretended to hate it, but Castiel had seen him bobbing his head to Truth Hurts by Lizzo on more than one occasion.

Dean opened up the cooler and handed Castiel a chicken salad sandwich in a ziplock bag, and a paper plate to put it on. He also dug out a bag of chips, and the bottle of screw-top white, which he poured into red solo cups. 

“Cheers to my knight in shining armor,” Dean said cheekily as they clinked plastic.

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” Castiel asked, before taking a healthy bite of his sandwich and washing it down with the crisp white.

“Probably not.”

“I meant what I said, though, Dean. I am sorry I caused such a scene,” Castiel took a sip of his wine and fiddled with his cup. “I don’t abide people who are so cavalier with other people’s feelings,” Cas quirked a grin. “Yours, in particular.

Dean finished off his sandwich and settled in next to Cas with his wine until they were shoulder to shoulder.

“I think that’s very noble of you, and I appreciate it, I really do. Seeing you punch Leo was one of the hottest and most satisfying things I’ve ever seen, not gonna lie,” Dean stared at him lasciviously, and Castiel felt a curl of heat in his stomach at the attention. “But, for the record, I can take care of myself,” Dean angled his head down towards Cas’. “I’m no damsel, you capisce?”

“I capisce,” Castiel placed his cup down, and took Dean’s from his fingers and placing them a little ways away from where they lounged. He then surprised them both by straddling Dean’s lap. A minute roll of Castiel’s hips had Dean catching his breath, and Cas smiled, wickedly. “I definitely don’t see you as a damsel, Dean.”

Blue eyes locked on green under the moonlit sky as Castiel playfully squeezed Dean between his thighs and rocked again.

“Dean?” Castiel cocked his head, trailing his fingers up and down the fabric of Dean’s shirt. 

“Yeah, Cas?” the words were nearly whispered, and Castiel fell forward, a hairsbreadth from Dean’s lips.

“Will you make love to me under the stars?” At Castiel’s words, Dean’s fingers dived into Cas’ hair, tugging at the strands as he appeared to drink in the sight of him. Castiel flushed at Dean’s needy expression, certain his own was just as wanton.

“You’re something else, sweetheart. I never saw you coming,” Dean said wondrously, and Castiel gasped when Dean slotted their mouths together in a deep kiss. He couldn’t help marveling at the feeling of his hard body against Dean’s, the slight rasp of stubble against Cas’ freshly shaven skin. It was so different from being close to a woman, the matching strength and firmness so heady. It was perfect; being pressed against Dean was _absolutely_ perfect, and the only thing that could make it better would be if they were skin to skin.

Dean seemed to read his mind as Castiel soon felt questing fingers leaving his hair to creep up under his tee-shirt. He responded by reaching for Dean’s and tugging. The warm breeze kissed his skin as they both sighed, pressing together as their tongues continued to roll against each other, in time with the rhythmic gyration of their hips.

Dean pulled back for a minute, panting a little bit. “How...um, how do you want to do this?”

Castiel had envisioned this moment many ways, but right now, all he could think was that he wanted to stay like this, in Dean’s lap, looking into his dark forest eyes.

“I want to ride you,” it came out nearly a growl, and Dean let out a muted whimper that only had Castiel plumping further in his pants.

“Are you sure? Because if you’re nervous-”

“I’m not nervous,” Castiel assured Dean, and he honestly wasn’t. Someday, he would love to explore what it would be like to be inside of Dean, but right now he wanted _this_. “I’ve thought about it a lot,” Castiel grinned as Dean chuckled softly. “I want to try everything with you, Dean, but I have been thinking about sinking onto your cock ever since that night at the dance club,” Just the thought of their clandestine men’s room excursion made Cas’ pulse thrum with want.

Dean blew out a breath at Castiel’s blunt words and nodded. “Okay, but I need to open you up first.”

Castiel nodded. “I know,” he shifted off of Dean and slipped his flannel pajama pants off, the fabric pooling at his feet in a soft _whoosh_ of sound. His dick was hard and already leaking as it jutted out, and he felt powerful when Dean’s hungry gaze took him in. 

“It’s just, we’ve only gone so far, and-”

“Dean. I want this. It’s okay to be scared, but I promise you, I do,” Castiel spoke with gentle firmness. “And if by some chance it’s not something I enjoy, which I highly doubt will be the case, I’m not going to go running. “

Dean rolled his eyes. “I know that.”

Castiel studied him, the surety of his deep voice, the smirk on his perfect face.

“You really do, don’t you?” Castiel broke out into a wide smile. “Okay then, will you get naked, please, because right now I am the only one giving the seagulls a show.”

Dean’s head tipped back on a laugh, and he lifted his hips, shimmying out of his pants, exposing his own half-hard member. Castiel bit his lip as he watched Dean stroke himself slowly, then frowned when he realized they had no lube.

“Problem?” Dean asked, tone teasing.

Castiel looked at Dean and thought about the long walk one of them was going to have to take back to the house. He supposed it would be wrong to yell _1,2,3, not it,_ and make Dean get it.

“Cas? Did you eat that brownie I hid in there?” Dean peered into the cooler, “because I was saving that for sunrise, and it’s from the fun side of Gabe’s bakery.”

“What?” Castiel narrowed his eyes? “No! No, I just realized we have no lube.”

Dean held up a hand, then turned around to lift a few of the pillows, revealing a towel, some KY, and Castiel’s camera. 

When Castiel only looked at him, deadpan, Dean blanched and began to sputter.

“No, no, no, not for… Jesus Christ, I brought it so you could take pictures,” he implored, and Castiel snorted.

“Really?” Cas asked, tone dust-dry.

“Of the sunrise, asshole, now get down here,” Dean scoffed, and Cas couldn’t hold back the laugh, sinking to their makeshift bed. 

“How do you want me to finger you?” Dean asked, and in a blink, the levity was gone as Castiel considered Dean’s words. “Laying down or while you straddle me?”

A part of Castiel wanted to choose to lay down because this was something they had dabbled in, and it usually resulted in Dean’s tongue in his ass, which was all kinds of glorious. Nevertheless, Cas wanted to be as close as they could be tonight, and that meant pressed skin to skin, where Cas could stare into Dean’s eyes until he couldn’t keep them open anymore.

In lieu of answering, Castiel arranged the pillows on either side of Dean to protect his knees, though there was no way he was escaping any of this without some soreness in the morning. That was fine; he was sure it would be worth it. Cas nodded in approval as he kneeled onto plush memory foam, and Dean grinned up at him.

“I was thinking ahead,” he said proudly, as he ran his hands up and down Cas’ taut thighs. 

“Thank you,” Castiel breathed against Dean’s lips as he angled down for a kiss. Cas shifted his legs apart a little wider, abdominal muscles quivering when his cock pressed against the warmth of Dean’s stomach. He gasped, and their lips parted, Castiel tilting his head back and enjoying the feeling of Dean’s lips trailing across his jawline and down to his adam’s apple. Cas swallowed when he felt the flick of Dean’s tongue against his pulse point. He heard the snick of the cap being popped open and sighed deeply when he felt Dean’s fingers trail down his ass and part his cheeks. A lube-slick finger circled his hole, and Castiel groaned as Dean pushed in up to his knuckle. Cas’ head fell forward into the crook of Dean’s neck, and he inhaled sharply. His arms wrapped tightly around Dean’s neck as he moved softly, against his breaching fingers.

Castiel’s already gravelly voice dipped lower as Dean continued to spear him, gently, stretching and spreading methodically. Soft grunts escaped Cas’ lips at the twisting thrusts of Dean’s fingers, and he bit into the meat of Dean’s shoulder when one particular swirl of his digits brushed Castiel’s prostate. 

“Dean,” Cas nearly growled, rocking steadily on three of Dean’s blunt fingers now, grinding down. It felt so good, and Castiel wanted more. “I’m ready.”

Dean’s own cock was thick and long, head flushed and weeping, and Castiel was so eager to welcome it into his body. Cas clutched at Dean’s shoulder as he shifted back to watch Dean slick himself up. Castiel’s hands slid down Dean’s arms, before he nudged his hand aside, taking Dean’s lubed up cock in his fist. Dean spread Castiel’s ass wide with his palms, and Cas guided Dean to his furled entrance. The spongy head caught on Cas’ rim, and with a dark groan of need, Castiel sank down, slow and fluid. 

Dean and Castiel embraced, faces buried in the juncture of each other’s neck, as they adjusted. Cas had never felt so full in his life. The slightest shift of movement had him moaning, the blunt head of Dean’s cock pressed deliciously against his prostate. 

Dean’s fingers began to trail lazily up and down Cas’ back, and his breath shuddered against the skin of Castiel’s neck as he patiently waited. Castiel’s cock throbbed between them, trapped between the sweat-dampened skin of their bellies.

Experimentally, Castiel gave a soft roll that had twin groans of pleasure escaping his and Dean’s lips. 

“Cas,” Dean murmured, pressing his lips to the hollow of Castiel’s throat, “Cas, I love you.”

The words had Castiel lighting up inside, like the illuminating flashes of a thunderstorm, quick and bright, and his heart hammered in his chest. The declaration ripped through him like a gale, and Cas’ hands scrambled to cradle Dean’s face as he claimed his mouth in a sultry kiss, intense and wet and slick.

Castiel exhaled a shaky breath when their lips parted, searching Dean’s gaze with his own. “I love you, too, Dean,” Cas said, head falling back on a groan as his hips began to create figure eights, the motion catching him just right and sending sparks coursing through his body. When Dean started to thrust up gently, Castiel couldn’t hold back the piercing cry of bliss. Dean thumbed at his hip bones, anchoring Cas there as he continued to drive up into him with deep, steady strokes. Castiel could feel his whole body shaking, skin slippery as their bodies ground together.

A chant of " _ah, ah, ah, ah_ ," fell from Castiel’s lips as the friction against his trapped cock and the constant pressure on his prostate had him coming hard between them, without warning. The orgasm felt endless as his whole body shook like a leaf in a storm. As Castiel slumped forward, he tugged at Dean’s earlobe with his teeth. 

“Don’t hold, back, come on,” Castiel’s fucked-out words seemed to be all the permission Dean needed as he renewed his grip on Cas’ hips and proceeded to pound up into him, harsh grunts escaping through his gritted teeth. 

When Dean came, his hips arched on a moan that lingered in the air around them. His eyes locked on Cas’, mouth open and muscles quivering, and Castiel had never seen anything more gorgeous in his life. Sticky and sated, they fell into each other, arms entwined, chest heaving with shuddering sighs. Castiel didn’t know he could ever feel as complete as he did at that moment with Dean inside of him.

The sound of the waves beating against the rocks was the only accompaniment to their ragged breathing, the ocean breeze cool against their skin slicked with sweat. With an unhappy sound of protest, Castiel shifted, allowing Dean’s softening cock to slip from his body with a squelch of lube and cum. Dean gently pushed Cas onto his back and took the towel he had put aside earlier and lovingly cleaned his stomach, thighs, and tender pucker. After cleaning himself, Dean grabbed the radio and set the alarm for 5:30, just a few minutes before sunrise, and Castiel kissed him on the cheek in thanks.

They slipped their sleep pants and tee-shirts back on, and Dean unzipped the sleeping bag. Castiel slid in first, so he could pull Dean back against the warmth of his chest. 

“Big spoonin’ me, huh?” Dean grumbled, and Castiel smiled into the nape of his neck. “I’ll allow it,” he said, dragging Castiel’s arm over his waist, snuggly.

“I thought you might,” Castiel’s said with a husky laugh. Clutching Dean as close as possible, Castiel closed his eyes, loose-limbed and relaxed, and fatigue finally beginning to drag him under.

“I love you, Cas,” Dean sighed out, and Cas leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of Dean’s temple.

“I love you too, Dean.”

* * *

Dean slept through the alarm when it went off in the early morning. Castiel shut it off, quickly, and took a moment just to observe him. They’d shifted in the night, Dean’s forearm was now resting over his brow, and his lashes fluttered lightly against his skin. Castiel grabbed his camera and took a few shots of Dean slumbering in the pre-dawn light. 

Cas carefully extracted himself from the sleeping bag, shivering a bit in the cool air that he knew would be hot and humid by midday. He stretched his fingers to the rapidly lightening sky and padded over to the railing. His movement, though quiet, awoke Dean, who came to with a soft snuffle. He gave a jaw-cracking yawn before blinking up at Castiel owlishly, and then a slow smile broke over his face.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Dean’s voice was thick with sleep as he stumbled to his feet, caging Cas with his arms, bringing him in for a warm embrace. 

“Good morning, Dean.” They held like that for a few beats and then shifted, Castiel turning towards the sea, leaning back into Dean’s chest, as he hugged Cas from behind.

The sun bloomed over the horizon, opening like a flower as gold and amber light slowly cascaded over the vibrant blue of the ocean, looking as though it could catch fire. It was spectacular, a prism of colors blending effortlessly, as the water glistened under the blush of the rising sun.

Castiel lost count of how many pictures he took until the sun settled in the sky, before finally lowering his camera with a pleased hum. Castiel tipped his head back, and Dean captured his upturned lips in a soft kiss. Castiel admired how the morning light teased Dean’s golden freckles and marveled for the umpteenth time at his beauty. 

“I’m off today,” Dean as they began to gather the supplies from last night. “What do you say we clean up and head over to Glazed and Confused for breakfast, then hit the beach for the day? You should probably fill Gabriel in on what happened before he reads about it online,” he teased.

Castiel groaned. “Okay, but let’s eat that brownie first, he’ll be easier to deal with that way.”

Dean laughed brightly.

As they walked down the spiral staircase to the bottom of the lighthouse, Castiel reflected on how much his life had changed for the better in such a short amount of time. He finally had what he’d always wanted; an all-consuming love of his own all wrapped up in a stunning package of bowed legs and a tender heart.

As Dean smiled back at him as he maneuvered the keys in the door while bogged down with pillows and a sleeping bag, Castiel put down the cooler and the radio, and strode right up to him. Cas cradled Dean’s face in his palms and pressed a desperate, needy kiss to his lips, coaxing his mouth open and delving inside with his eager tongue. When Castiel pulled back, Dean was panting at him, green eyes dazed, grin sappy.

“What was that for?” Dean asked as he leaned against the for jam, key still stuck in the lock. Castiel reached across him, and twisted the tiny slip of metal, opening the door.

“What? Boyfriends kiss,” Castiel teased, pushing past Dean and into the house that he was sure would someday become his home. 

“Yes. Yes, they do,” When Dean followed him inside with mischief and lust in his eyes, Castiel wondered if he could entice his love into having a late brunch instead. 

Castiel started up the stairs, calling over his shoulder as he began stripping off his clothes to Dean’s surprised delight. “About that breakfast,” Cas said, standing naked in the doorway of Dean’s bedroom, “I’ll make you a deal...”

* * *

_18 months later_

“This is weird,” Dean said quietly, tugging at the collar of his bullet-grey v-neck. 

“It’s not weird,” Castiel protested, looking devastatingly handsome in a denim blue button-down that had his eyes putting the sea to shame. 

“It’s totally weird.”

“He’s right, Cas,” came a voice from his left and Dean startled as he felt a palm clap his shoulder, “it _is_ a little weird,” Inias said, good-naturedly. 

Castiel frowned at him in that adorable way where he tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Cas, our little party of four is about to sit down to dinner together, and you've slept with all but one of us,” Dean explained, and Inias snickered. “Don’t get any ideas, buddy,” he said, shooting him a warning finger.

“You’re ridiculous,” Castiel groused, with a roll of his eyes.

Dean shrugged. “You married me.” 

Inias laughed, “Come on, guys, Daph is already at our table.” 

Before Dean could follow after Inias, Castiel said, “We’ll be right there,” then caught his hand, moving them out of the pathway of servers, and into the coat check room.

“I did marry you,” Castiel said without preamble, “because I love you, endlessly, and if me doing this for Daphne makes you the least bit uncomfortable-”

Dean cut him off with a kiss, which Castiel met eagerly, a soft, sensual play of lips that never failed to melt Dean’s brain. 

“It’s fine, Cas. I was mostly joking. I think it’s cool you’re doing their engagement photoshoot. That’s an awesome gift, especially since we can’t make the wedding.” Daphne and Inias’ wedding fell on the state tournaments, and Dean and Castiel had already promised to be there to cheer the youth league kids on, and Cas had to take photos for the newspaper and monthly Winchester Lanes Newsletter.

Daphne and Inias had a much longer engagement in comparison to Dean and Castiel, who, after that first summer together, found Castiel moving into the Keeper’s house with Dean by the beginning of September. By Thanksgiving, they were engaged. Castiel had shocked the hell out of him with an impassioned speech about how Dean was what he was most thankful for, and how honored and grateful he would be if Dean would be his husband. In front of their family and friends, Castiel presented a cherry pie with _Will You Marry Me?_ baked into the crust, and a ring. 

Dean and Castiel knew immediately that they wanted to forgo a huge wedding, and Chuck performed a sunset ceremony for them on the lighthouse balcony. They chose June 21st, the day of the summer solstice, based on Castiel’s romanticized notion that the best day of their lives should be the longest day of their lives. How could Dean say no to that?

With only Sam, Rowena, Gabriel, Charlie, and Meg in attendance, they married under the setting sun. Charlie, quite good with a camera herself, filmed the ceremony, and stills from the video were hanging up in their house. Despite Dean’s certainty that Castiel would be itching to pick up a camera, he couldn’t have been more wrong. His new husband had to be within touching distance from him the whole evening; from the ceremony to the small reception in Castiel’s church function room, to their honeymoon, Castiel’s hands and intimate gaze never left his body. 

Much like now.

“C’mon,” Dean said, “I want to go hear some embarrassing stories about you. Ones that don’t involve Gabriel.”

Castiel groaned and laced his hand with Dean’s. Dean let his husband lead him to the dining room of Inias’ restaurant. He watched Cas hug Daphne, and her return the embrace with nothing but happiness for her best friend on her kind face.

So, sure. It was a little weird to be sitting at a table with his husband’s ex-wife and her new fiance, but as Daphne began regaling him with a story of how his beautiful, perfect Castiel once wound up naked on the hood of their car, covered in bees, Dean felt nothing but blissfully happy. Castiel blushed in embarrassment, even as he laughed, that eye crinkling smile of his lighting up the whole room and Dean's heart swelled for it. Dean didn't want to think about what he might be doing if Castiel hadn't come into his life, if he hadn't offered Dean what turned out to be the deal of a lifetime. Instead, he laced their hands together, thumbing at the ring on Castiel's finger that matched his own, and Dean smiled, knowing he was right where he was supposed to be.

The End

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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